


The Mis-Rick-Education of Phoebe Johnson

by TheDruidIsIn



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Age Difference, Biracial Character, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Character(s) of Color, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Character of Color, Friends to Lovers, I'm already suffering, Mixed Characters, Multilingual Character, Multilingual OC, Multilingual Rick Sanchez, Multiracial Character, Mutual Pining, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Pining, Rick Sanchez speaks Spanish, Rick and Morty get a third, Rick and Phoebe didn't even meet for like a week, Rick and his illegal activities, Rick has a human friend for once, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smart Is The New Sexy, So Many Weapons, age gap, and he’s one depressed fucker, at least eventually, because he’s Rick, but he still drinks a lot, don’t worry you won’t have blue balls forever, duh - Freeform, science friends, this fic isn’t out to hurt you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2020-10-25 19:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 114,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDruidIsIn/pseuds/TheDruidIsIn
Summary: Phoebe Johnson didn't know what to expect when she went to live with her half-brother, Jerry, to attend graduate school.  She certainly didn't expect interdimensional, space, and time travel with his hated father-in-law Rick and his socially awkward son  Morty.





	1. Arriving

_Day Zero_

In the midst of a busy airport, twenty-year-old Phoebe Johnson nervously smoothed down the fabric of her high-necked, bell-sleeved, floral-patterned dress for the thousandth time as she waited to be picked up after her flight. She had her long, thick, dark hair secured in three large cornrows tucked carefully underneath her favorite headwrap. The sense of security that came from feeling it clinging snuggly to her head helped her to feel a little less overwhelmed, but even with it she felt a bit overstimulated and longed for the quiet and cool the car would bring. She hated crowds, she hated large public places, and most of all she hated airports. The air in the waiting area felt almost suffocating, the continuous press of warm bodies around her making the room even hotter than it already was. Somewhere close by there was a squalling baby contributing to the overall noise. Her noise-canceling headphones helped to block out the loud thrum of voices and commotion as people rushed past her but some sounds still filtered through. She cringed and turned her music up louder, forcing herself to concentrate on her book about a vampire accountant. Her hands switched to playing with the bracelet of jade circling her tawny wrist, a gift from her mother to ensure safe travel and luck (not that she didn’t already have a huge chunk of jade round her neck on a thick chord that she had worn for years—her mother just felt like being extra cautious since they had never been so far apart before).

Today she would finally meet her half-brother, who was now fifteen minutes later than expected, face-to-face. She fully resigned herself to that fifteen minutes turning into twenty before he arrived. As soon as he picked her up they would drive to the house, and he would be introduced to his family, something both thrilling and terrifying. Jerry was much older than her, after all, and had children of his own who were not that much younger than her. To say she was nervous barely scratched the surface of her tangle of emotions. She had a half-brother who was fifteen years older than her, one with whom she had not grown up. The separation was awkward enough, but to think that she was a love-child born out of one of his parents’ threesomes left a few things to be desired. No one wanted to think of their mother or father being sexually active, and no one wanted to know the circumstances under which they were conceived, but it was a bit unavoidable given the circumstances. How else could her mother have explained their weird family relationship? How else could she defend her assertion that she most certainly did _not _have an affair with a married man than to include details about his and his wife’s consensual polyamory? So her mother had confided in her (leaving out all the gross and unnecessary details), and she decided to reach out to her half-brother.

His name was Jerry Smith, and Phoebe admitted to herself that while her brother seemed a bit limited, he was still her brother and she should get to know him and the rest of her family better. The two of them corresponded over a period of a few months, and when she applied to, and was accepted into, the nearby university for graduate school, it seemed only natural that she stayed with her family there to cut costs. She could have stayed with her father and his wife, but she felt a bit weird about that, and it was a step that she preferred to take in the future. So on top of avoiding an awkward parental situation, it would be far cheaper to stay with the Smiths than renting an apartment on her own, and given that she was a graduate student and not an undergraduate, she could avoid the hell of living in a dorm. Jerry seemed more than happy to accommodate her, and so she found herself packing and purchasing a plane ticket to Seattle. She did transcription work, website testing, and tutoring in English and Mandarin to keep her bank account from stuttering into death throes while she attended school, and Jerry’s parents were more than happy to send money to her and her mother, Bailey Johnson, the child of an African American father, Darius Johnson, and a Chinese-American mother, Mĕilì Chung. They never abandoned their lover, actively supporting Bailey and Phoebe throughout Phoebe’s lifetime. Even now they were helping offset her college costs. She was appreciative, knowing how lucky she was to have that sort of financial security. Many people couldn’t afford college without either jumping through hoops for scholarships or accepting crippling amounts of debt that would follow them until the day they died.

After another few minutes of contemplation spent staring sightlessly at her phone screen, Phoebe minimized her book and switched into her message app. Jerry had now hit the twenty-minute mark according to the time stamp on the last message. She rolled her eyes, slightly irritated. Maybe she had given too much credit to him, she thought derisively. Maybe the man couldn’t tell time? She vented her frustration in her head for less than a minute then banished the cruel thought with a grimace, forcing herself to be a bit more patient, a bit more lenient, with her brother. It wouldn’t do to write him off within the first hour as a lost cause, especially for pretentious or petty reasons. She huffed in frustration and switched out of the app. Looking between the timestamp and the clock repeatedly would be like watching a pot and waiting for it to boil.

After a few more minutes she actually began to worry. Maybe he’d gotten into an accident, and here she was being the asshole who sat around hating him while he bled out on the roadside. She paused her music, bit her lip, and dialed his number. Jerry picked up on the third ring, sounding harried. He spoke quickly into the phone. “Hello? Phoebe? I’m on my way. There was a little hiccup but I’m coming now.”

She bit back a groan of disappointment. “What ah—what happened there, Jerry?” A small, vindictive part of her was hoping for an emergency despite her recent worry.

From his end Jerry sighed in frustration. “My father-in-law,” he said unpleasantly, “We had another fight about how he’s ruining my son!”

Phoebe frowned. “Oh? How is that?”

“He’s...he’s...he just is, okay? I’ll be there in another ten minutes, don’t worry.” From their talks she thought he sounded like an anxious and insecure person, but maybe her hot take was wrong and he would be different in person. Today maybe he was just stressed about being late to pick her up, or as nervous about meeting her as she was about meeting him.

“Okaaaay…” Phoebe drew out the word, unsure what to say. 

Jerry hung up the phone, and Phoebe sighed, resigned to waiting ten more minutes, which would push her total wait time to a little over half an hour. Since he was supposedly so close she closed Spotify, tucked her headphones away, and double-checked her belongings, which consisted of two large suitcases and two small carry-ons, all in muted shades of red. She gathered everything to her with skill and made her way outside, stopping just by the entrance. She stood in the shade to avoid melting, thankful that her clothes kept her cool. She fiddled with some mindless game so she could keep her faculties about her and observe her surroundings.

The remaining ten minutes seemed to pass faster than the preceding twenty, and soon Jerry called her back. “Um, Phoebe,” he said uncertainly, “I’m here. What do you look like?”

Shit. It suddenly occurred to her that not only did he have no idea what she looked like, he likely had no real grasp over the concept that she wasn’t quite like him. How could he know to look for a tall woman with skin darker than the haze of the harvest moon? Through osmosis? _Shitfuckdamnittohell. _“Do you see a tall brown woman in a headwrap with a bunch of red luggage?”

Silence came from the other end of the line for a few moments before Jerry slowly said “...Yes?”

“That’s me. I’m probably not what you’re expecting.”

Another silence, then, “...ah, well, not exactly...but that’s okay!” Jerry responded brightly. Phoebe winced internally but wasn’t surprised at the assumption. She assumed best intentions, though, so didn’t hold it against him. It was likely that it never occurred to him rather than him actively not wanting her to be who she was. Some things that were so obvious to her were invisible to him. He wasn’t used to being mixed-race like she was and having family members in varying hues. He didn’t know how to think like a brown-bodied person, and before her he likely never had to consider all the implications of having a mixed-race family.

An old station wagon slid up next to her, giving her a view into the vehicle. Through the passenger window she could see a mid-thirties white male driver, thin, probably five-seven to five-nine. He wore a dark green short-sleeved cotton shirt with brown and beige coloring a horizontal stripe in the middle of it. He had light brown eyes, it seemed. Looking into his face she could see a few features they shared, and that eased her mind a little. Same ears, same jawline, same light brown eyes. Their skin might be different, but to anyone actually paying attention they were clearly biologically related. She knocked on his window when he didn’t immediately roll it down, and he pressed a button to lower it, at least having the decency to look embarrassed. He’d been staring right back at her, but far more intently and for far longer than necessary. “Could you open the back?” she asked, successfully keeping her exasperation out of her voice.

Jerry immediately looked flustered. “Oh, yeah! And I guess I should help you? I mean, what kind of brother would I be if I didn’t?” He let out a nervous chuckle and hopped out of the driver’s seat, trooping to the back of the car. He swung open the hatch and her things quickly disappeared into the interior of the cargo space. She kept only her small backpack with her, stretching up to help Jerry close the hatch. She returned to the passenger side, opened the door and slid into her seat. A moment later Jerry slid into his. They fastened their seatbelts and soon they were off, driving away from the airport. Phoebe hoped he would talk about _something_ so the car ride together wouldn’t be excruciating.

Jerry kept glancing at her in the rearview without saying anything. After the fifth time she decided to start a conversation. How in the world could the man still be so awkward? Sure, they’d never met, but at least they’d _spoken_ before. Maybe that was it, she realized, once another minute of painful silence passed. Before she was a disembodied voice speaking to him over the phone or through email. She was an abstract, a concept, not a fully formed person, and now here she was suddenly sitting in his car, whole, fully formed, impossible to ignore. “So...do you like dogs?” she tried. Either he liked dogs or he liked a different kind of animal, unless he was one of those soulless people who hated all animals everywhere.

To her relief, Jerry instantly brightened. “I love dogs! In fact, we have one!” His voice took on the tone of an excited child showing off his toys to his new friends. “His name is Snuffles, but we all think he’s a little stupid…”

For the next twenty-five minutes they bonded over pets they’d had previously. Phoebe had once owned a small lizard when she was younger, while Jerry had owned a hamster, and they’d both gone through a fish or two. Back at home she and her mother shared a cat that would only answer to Princess (though its name was _supposed to be_ Misty), and Jerry and his family had Snuffles, though he was mostly Morty’s. The two siblings shared hilarious pet-related shenanigans, and began to commiserate with each other over losing the dead ones. That part was a bit dark, but their shared grief made her feel closer to him. _This must be what they mean by packbonding in all of those Humans-Are-Space-Australians stories_, she mused to herself. Now that she saw it in action she understood its power. They moved on to discussing their favorite animals (some of hers were elephants and dolphins) and by the time that Jerry pulled the station wagon into the driveway of a typical suburban home, one considered “modest” by some standards, she felt more comfortable calling him her brother.

Phoebe stalled a moment, wondering what his family would be like, but pushed the worry firmly from her mind. She stepped out of the car with determination and moved to the hatch to remove her belongings. Together she and Jerry lugged everything up to the front door, and she briefly wondered how she had managed everything by herself at the airport without a helping hand nearby. Maybe because the journey was coming to a close things seemed harder than they were in the middle or at the beginning. By this point she just wanted everything to be over and to settle into the house.

They stood on the front step together as Jerry fumbled with the key. Before he could orient it in a way that allowed him to stick it into the lock, the front door opened to reveal someone who could only be his daughter, unless he had a niece or another long-lost sister staying with him at the moment. A thin, bored-looking teenager around five-foot-two or five-foot three stood staring at them, her wide hips and rather round face the only thing keeping her from looking like a stereotypical beanpole. Her nose was long and sharp. Unlike her father, her eyes were a cool silvery color and her loose hair a fiery ginger that contrasted starkly with his mousy brown. She had on purple shorts and a white top, which apparently surprised her father. “No pink?” he said with more than a hint of surprise, which told Phoebe that the teen rarely deviated from the color in her wardrobe choices. Summer, she remembered, was seventeen, and her brother Morty was fourteen. They weren’t all that much younger than her, all things considered. Maybe she would get to be that fun Aunt everyone talked about, the one who did cool things and let you get away with crap your parents never would.

“God, Dad,” she said, ignoring his comment, “what took you so long?”

“Well, Summer, I—I had a late start,” he grumbled. “Your grandfather and I had words before I went to pick up your Aunt Phoebe.”

“He was thirty minutes late,” Phoebe deadpanned unhelpfully from his side, stifling her laughter when he shot her a hurt look. “Just saying,” she shrugged with a smile, “far be it from me to help my brother.” She could tell she had redeemed herself because he seemed pleased.

His shoulders straightened. “Summer,” he said importantly, far more importantly than perhaps he _should _sound for a simple family introduction, Phoebe thought amusedly, “this is your Aunt Phoebe.”

Phoebe shifted around her things and gave Summer a small wave. “Hello, Summer,” she said, “it’s good to finally meet you. You don’t know how trippy it’s been these past few months realizing I wasn’t an only child.”

Summer looked at her for the first time, having focused on her father. If Phoebe were a more timid person she might have shrunk under the scrutiny, but instead she felt relaxed, displaying her warmest smile. Summer seemed to approve, or at least not to disapprove. She nodded once and stepped to the side. “Come on in, Aunt Phoebe.” As they passed, she took the carry-on bags, which made the going even easier. Phoebe really, _really_ wished they had been able to help her at the airport now, but it was neither here nor there. She took a step forward, wondering about her nephew and her sister-in-law, who she assumed she would meet soon. It would be so nice to finally put faces to the names of her new family members.


	2. Unpacking

_Day Zero, Part Two_

They all moved into the house, heading up the stairs together. The suitcases bumped against the banister a few times as they went. The noise must have been what drew Morty—who else could it be? Jerry only had one son— from his room, because he appeared after the first few bangs, peering over the railing from the landing at the top. “Hey, Dad, hey Summer,” Morty said. Like his father he had mousy brown hair, but like Summer he had those same silvery eyes. His face was far less round and oblong than Summer’s, his nose not quite as long or pointy. Phoebe’s own face sported high cheekbones and epicanthic folds, her slim, delicate jawline a part of a heart-shaped face.

Summer outright ignored Morty’s greeting. Jerry, however, did not. “Hey, Morty,” he returned, “This is your Aunt Phoebe, the one I told you about.” 

His eyes shifted to her and his lips formed into an awkward, lopsided smile full of shyness. “It—it’s nice to meet you, A-aunt Phoebe. G-gosh, you’re pretty.” The boy was obviously as socially awkward and nervous as his father, poor little bastard. Ah, well. Someone had to be the confident one in the family, and Phoebe supposed that job fell to her. She had no idea if Beth were confident or not, but that hardly counted since they weren’t really related.

Phoebe graced him with a soft upturning of lips, wanting to be kind. “Thank you, Morty. Do you mind opening the door to the guest room for us?” She tried making it a gentle suggestion.

“No problem!” He replied cheerfully, turning and walking ahead of them. 

Jerry reached the landing first, followed by Phoebe, with Summer right behind her. The bathroom was directly across from the stairs. Morty had opened the door to the first bedroom on the right side of the hall. Judging by the open doorways of the others she was across the hall from Summer’s room. Her deductions were confirmed when Summer started labeling each one. “This is my room,” she gestured, indicating the first room on the left. She swung around and motioned to the door Morty had opened. “Obviously this is yours.”

She opened her mouth to continue, but apparently Morty wanted to share in her role as tour guide to the Smith (now Smith-Johnson, technically, since Phoebe kept her mother’s name) family residence. “And I sleep in the room next to Summer,” Morty jumped in, sounding as overexcited as earlier. He was absolutely _adorable_ in the way puppies were adorable when they tripped over their oversized paws.

“Beth and I sleep at the end of the Hall,” Jerry added as if feeling excluded.

“Good to know,” Phoebe said, nodding at him and formulating a mental layout of the top floor in her mind.

“Grandpa Rick’s room is downstairs,” Summer finished, rolling her eyes at her father and brother.

The lot of them piled into Phoebe’s room and dumped her luggage into the floor. With all of them looming around her she felt almost claustrophobic, not used to such a large family. Her dislike of crowding didn’t help with the smothered sensation. She wanted them to leave the room, but she was torn between following them and getting to know them better or immediately unpacking. She glanced around for a second, considering, then decided on unpacking. Not only would she appreciate alone time, she could do something productive. Multitasking.

“I better unpack,” she said, before anyone could suggest anything else. It was still early, just before ten on a Saturday. “If you’d like we can all meet up for lunch and maybe get to know each other better?”

Jerry, Summer, and Morty glanced at each other.

“I guess,” Summer shrugged, neither disappointed nor enthusiastic

.

“That—that would be great, Aunt Phoebe,” Morty replied in his usual stammer, obviously excited.

“Alright,” Jerry agreed, clearly more disappointed not to spend more time with her immediately. He bemoaned not growing up with a little sibling as much as she wished she had an older sibling to look to while growing up as a supposed only child.

“I mean, Jerry,” she said, thinking quickly and deciding she could keep from upsetting him with the same action that would make her life easier. The downside would be losing that alone time she was fantasizing about only moments earlier. “If you want, you can help me unpack. I just assumed the kids wanted to have some down time, and I thought helping their Aunt unpack would be boring.”

“You’d be right,” Summer answered honestly.

“_Summer_!” Jerry interjected, sounding appalled.

“What?” she shrugged. “I’m not going to lie about it.”

“Go have fun,” Phoebe ordered, making shooing motions.

“Really?” Summer blinked, a little surprised.

It was Phoebe’s turn to shrug. “I’m not your mother. It’s not my job to tell you to do your homework. Besides, it’s Saturday. Homework day is obviously Sunday.”

She didn’t have to say it twice. Before Jerry could object, Summer had gone like a flash. Her Aunt might be interesting, and she might even _like _Phoebe, but she sure as hell wouldn’t want to help her unpack if she wanted to go out for a bit. Phoebe’s feelings weren’t hurt. She didn’t blame her. She wasn’t looking forward to it herself. Unpacking made dull work.

Morty hovered by the door, a little uncertain. “I don’t mind helping, Aunt Phoebe.”

Her lips twitched but she didn’t say anything. Her underwear and bras she could do later that day by herself when she got a few minutes alone, but it would be nice if they would help her put away her clothes, books, electronics, craft supplies, and miscellaneous things, including a few of her knives. She’d mailed the rest of them to herself using their address. The TSA probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable with her bringing _all _of them onto the plane, even if they couldn’t be in her carryon luggage anyway. She nudged a bag toward Morty and opened one of the suitcases, starting to pull out clothes.

With the three of them working together it took them a little under half an hour to get it done, sans anything she wanted to unpack privately. Almost all of her clothes were either in the closet or the bureau, her books were on the bookshelf, her electronics and knitting were laid out on her desk, her knives were tucked away safely, and her chargers were set up on her nightstand. She’d placed her toiletries into the bathroom, though she kept her hair care supplies in her room. The (mostly) empty luggage was shoved unceremoniously into the closet and under the bed, wherever it would fit. “Well, that’s everything,” she said brightly. “Everything I can unpack in front of you two, anyway.” They had to have noticed she hadn’t put away any underclothes, and she’d rather die than have her brother or her nephew know she had a vibrator in the bottom of that compartment underneath them.

Morty laughed nervously, letting her know that Jerry passed on more than one anxious trait.

“That’s—er...that is,” Jerry muttered, turning red. While he would never guess the vibrator, he had to realize it was something embarrassing or inappropriate—any idiot could figure that out. “We’ll just...we’ll let you get to those, then. Come on Morty.”

Somewhat reluctantly from what she could tell, Morty followed his father to the door.

“Hey, Jer,” she said, as Jerry stepped into the hall. 

“Yeah?” he said brightly.

“Where’s Beth? I’ve heard so much about her and I thought she’d be here when I arrived.”

“Oh, she has a book club Saturday morning.”

“Oh, neat. I guess I’ll see her at lunch then?”

“Yeah, probably,” he conceded. Morty, who had fidgeted while she asked about Beth, joined his father in the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Phoebe sighed and went to retrieve the luggage with her underwear and vibrator, quickly stowing away the last few items in the top drawer of the bureau. She might as well do it while she was thinking about it. It just wouldn’t do to forget to unpack her underwear and take a shower tonight with none to step into when she finished. She glanced around what would be her home for the next few years, taking in the gauzy curtains hanging in front of the blinds, the dark woods of the furniture, the soft sheets—new or unused, she couldn’t tell—the bookcase, the ugly lime green desk lamp. This would be a home away from home, a second home, she hoped. She glanced at her watch to check the time. It was still way too early for lunch. With nothing else to do she decided to check out the downstairs area of the house, and then maybe read or knit in the living room. She checked her phone battery first, grabbed her current-project bag, and then left her room with her phone in her pocket and her bag in one hand, starting down the stairs.

At the bottom she turned right, took a few steps down a short hall, and found herself looking in on a dining room with a china cabinet against one wall. The door to the right led to the guest bathroom, a small, nondescript, half-bath with a fuzzy blue rug. The door across from her led into what could only be Jerry’s “man-cave”: he had golf clubs standing in the corner, a gaming computer setup, a recliner in front of a flat screen TV with a tablet on the side table. The door to the left, which was actually an open archway, led into the kitchen. It was rather large, and there were notes posted to the fridge. She saw a door set in the far wall and moved toward it, curious. She crossed the room, hand outstretched, her fingers hovering over the knob when she got close enough. She lowered them, her fingertips inching closer, but a second before she could touch it Morty yelled “Ah! D-don’t!” from directly behind her, startling her.

She jumped, jerking her hand away as if the knob would burn her. She whirled on him to find him staring at the door with wide, horrified eyes. “Morty oh my god what the _fuck_,” she swore, then smacked herself in the forehead when his eyes widened further. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t talk like that around you.”

Morty seemed to calm down some and shrugged it off, totally unfazed. “I’ve heard the same or worse,” he replied. He sped over to her and grabbed her hand, startling her again, his pale flesh a contrast to her own darker skin, and tugged gently. “Y-you really shouldn’t go in there, Aunt Phoebe. Come watch television with me,” he said in a clear attempt to get her away from the door.

She jabbed her thumb toward it over her shoulder, “What’s behind the door?”

“I-it’s, ah, it’s the garage.”

“And,” she prompted, allowing him to tow her toward the archway and away from the mysterious door to the garage.

“And-and it’s Rick’s workroom, and he doesn’t like people messing with his stuff or disturbing him, so just stay out of it, okay?”

“I won’t go in unless he invites me,” she promised.

Morty’s shoulders slumped in visible relief. “Good,” Morty said, pulling her to the couch. They sat down next to each other and he reached for the remote. “What do you like to watch, Aunt Phoebe?”

“Sci-fi,” she said instantly, “fantasy, mystery, nature docs, Discovery Channel, horror, that sort of thing. And Morty, you can call me Phoebe if you want to. Summer can too.”

“Oh, ok,” Morty said. He turned the TV on and started flipping through channels until he found a few viable options: a documentary on Cheetahs, Saw 2, Star Trek. Phoebe grinned and picked Star Trek. Unbeknownst to her it was to Morty’s mixed surprise and panic. She settled back to watch it, pulling her project from the small bag she used to make things portable, her hands settling into a quiet rhythm as she watched with rapt attention. The sound of the needles clicking softly filled the room. She hardly glanced down at all, moving mostly on muscle memory. Morty, for his part, didn’t seem totally bored, though he did seem vaguely unimpressed, which made her wonder. _What kid didn’t like sci-fi_? She decided to ignore it.

They passed the time in silence, Phoebe not even noticing that the door to the garage opened, nor when someone rummaged around in the kitchen to make a sandwich or when that same person peeked into the living room. Her eyes were intent on the show, her hands intent on her work. She was so engrossed in both that she didn’t notice a lab-coat- clad willowy man with wild hair giving her a long, hard once-over with his silvery eyes, or the critical eye he then cast at the screen, his eyebrows rising in clear judgement. She didn’t notice him leave, either.


	3. Family Group Chat

_Day Zero, Part 3_

After Star Trek went off they watched an educational program about Penguins that had started. Closer to noon, Phoebe stood and stretched. “Do you lot have a family group chat?” she asked suddenly.

Morty stared up at her, perplexed. “Um, no,” he said, confused. “Should we?”

“It would sure as hell be easier than either hunting everyone down manually or texting them each separately,” she observed.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Morty agreed.

Phoebe reached into her pocket and withdrew her phone. “I already have your dad’s number. Give me yours and I’ll text you, then you can send me Summer’s and Beth’s in response.”

The exchange took less than a minute. Phoebe then had everyone’s contact information in her phone except for one person, the only one she hadn’t seen. “Do you have Rick’s number?” she asked as she checked her messages.

“Um, gee, Phoebe, I don’t think Rick would want me giving out his number.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to send him an unsolicited dick pic. It’s just for emergencies. Besides, if someone starts a family group chat I’ll be able to see it anyway.”

“I doubt Grandpa Rick would _want _to be in a family group chat,” Summer said as she came into the room, fingers flying across her keyboard. She somehow managed not to walk into anything without looking up or pausing once. She finished her message, clicked her phone to lock screen and pocketed it as she looked up at them. “He’s not the family group chat type.”

Phoebe’s eyebrow quirked. “I take it he’s crotchety and abrasive? Unless he hates tech.”

Summer laughed. “He definitely does _not_ hate tech.”

“_Summer_,” Morty said, shooting his sister a meaningful look.

“What? I’m not gonna spill the beans,” Summer snapped. “If anyone will it’s _you_. You’re the weak-willed one.”

Phoebe saw a collision course in their near future and she was smack dab in the middle of it. “Hey, hey, it’s my first day here, let's not fight,” she said, raising her hands in protest. “I get it, your grandfather is secretive. I gathered that from not being allowed into the garage.”

“Is Rick already bothering you?” She looked to find Jerry at the door, a scowl taking up most of his face. His sharp nose, something he shared with his daughter, looked even pointier, if possible, with his lips tugged down at the corners. Paired with his ugly green shirt, for an instant she had the absurd mental image of him as a giant sulking parakeet and had to clamp down on her emotions before she laughed out loud and caused more problems.

“Not really,” she said, meaning it. “I actually haven’t seen him yet. Morty is the one who steered me away from his workroom.”

This seemed to only marginally improve Jerry’s mood. “Oh, alright,” he said, arms crossing over his chest, making Phoebe question how much the family actually talked with each other past short, quick responses.

Phoebe changed the subject quickly. “So, uh, when is Beth coming back?”

Jerry’s mood instantly lifted as soon as Rick wasn’t a part of the conversation. The two obviously had problems, though it was too early to tell if they were one-sided or not. “She decided to run by the office and check on a patient of hers and then she’ll be right over.”

“Alright, well, what do you have in the kitchen? We can try to scrounge up something for a family lunch here, or if there’s not much in the house right now we can go out.”

“There’s some, uh, lasagna leftovers from last night,” Morty told her.

“There are, like, sandwiches and things,” Summer continued.

“I think there’s some potato salad,” Jerry said.

Phoebe clapped her hands. “Wonderful. Do we want any of that?”

She looked around at the three of them, each looking varying degrees of conflicted. “Maybe the sandwiches and the potato salad?” she suggested. “Or we can wait for Beth to get back.” An idea struck her. “Or we can text her like normal people,” she amended. She grinned toothily at Morty. “I told you having a family group chat would be useful.”

“I’ll text mom,” Summer cut in, whipping out her phone faster than a videogame character pulling a weapon out of hammer-space. A minute or so passed before her phone dinged with an incoming message. “She wants to know if all of us want tacos.” Summer glanced up briefly at everyone.

“I love tacos,” Phoebe said.

“Tacos,” Jerry moaned, obviously in agreement.

“Uh, yeah, I’m down for tacos,” Morty said after a moment, hand going to scratch the back of his head.

Summer sent a response at lightning speed. It only took a moment for her mother to reply. “She wants me to get Grandpa Rick.”

“I’ll ask,” Morty said, turning toward the kitchen.

Summer blocked his way. “_No. _If _you_ go you’ll probably get sucked into some insane adventure of his.”

“Then _I’ll_ ask,” Jerry said, clearly displeased by the thought of speaking to Rick.

“No,” she said even more firmly. “If _you _go you’ll both just fight again. I’ll ask myself.”

She strode over to the connecting door and banged on it loudly. “Grandpa Rick, we’re going out for tacos with mom. It’s lunch time.”

Silence.

Summer banged louder and longer. “Grandpa Rick, I know you’re in there! Come meet Aunt Phoebe!”

This time a gruff voice issued out from behind the door, preceded by a belch that somehow managed to sound irritated. “God-Godf-fuckingdammit, Summer, y-y-y-you just, fuck off! Can’t you—” _belch_ “—can’t you tell I’m—” _belch_ “—working?”

“Don’t you want to meet Aunt Phoebe?” Summer tried again, surprising Phoebe. Apparently Summer did like her, at least enough to want to introduce her to others.

“_Summer I’m fucking busy!_” he all but snarled back at her. What was the man doing in there, brain surgery? What could be that big of a deal?

“Ok, god, Grandpa Rick, no need to get all Old Testament, sheesh.” She turned around and shrugged. “I tried. Let’s go.” She relayed Rick’s response to her mother via text as she made her way to the door and exited the house.

Phoebe shrugged and followed her, calling over her shoulder to get Jerry and Morty to follow her.

“This is why you should have a family group chat,” she remarked as they piled into the car.

“Are you kidding? My parents are embarrassing enough in person!” Summer objected.

Phoebe snorted, amused. “Well, whether that’s true or not it would make your life easier.”

“I don’t know if I want to be in a chat with Rick.” Jerry scowled.

Phoebe fixed him with a skeptical look, wondering what in the hell was so wrong with this Rick person. “Is he going to say anything he wouldn’t in person?”

“...Well, _no,_” Jerry conceded, hunching his shoulders. “That’s the problem,” he muttered the second part under his breath.

“Okay then,” Phoebe shot back, still baffled. What kind of situation did she walk into? She could just picture those two memes in her head, the one with the dog sitting in the midst of a fire and saying “this is fine” and the one where the man carrying pizza walks into a clusterfuck of a disaster. “Since I have all of your numbers I’ll start it and someone can add Rick.”

“This is going to be a nightmare,” Summer sighed dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest, hands tucked. The position didn’t last. As soon as she got a text, her arms came down to type.

“Rick’s not gonna like this, Phoebe,” Morty warned, sounding far less dramatic than Summer.

“He’ll get over it,” she said nonchalantly. “I hope,” she added as an afterthought. She looked at Jerry again. “So do you have two cars or are we picking up Beth?”

“Rick has a car, but no one else uses it,” Morty piped up. 

Jerry’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, clenching and unclenching. “We’ll pick up Beth.”

“O...kay then…” Her family was a little strange. “I’ll have to swap seats with her.” Currently she was riding shotgun.

She turned to Morty and asked him about school, which only seemed to make Jerry more upset. She gathered it had something to do with Rick and Rick taking Morty out of school from the comments he made. Phoebe decided to switch to a safer topic, which was, as it turned out, dogs.

Their conversation devolved into their favorite dog breeds by the time they pulled up to the house of a friend of Beth’s who lived a few streets down from them. Phoebe got out, waiting to greet Beth. She could see Summer texting through the window and guess she was letting Beth know they were outside. Two minutes later a blonde woman of average height emerged. She wore a V-necked red button-up, the collar folded and pressed against her shoulders without a wrinkle in sight, and blue pants. There was something of Summer there; Summer clearly favored Jerry less. With a start phoebe realized that Beth, too, possessed those uncanny silvery eyes. The children had clearly gotten the trait from their mother.

Beth extended her hand and they shook. “Phoebe,” Phoebe told her, “obviously. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Beth. I don’t know if you’re aware, but Jer’s crazy for you. I could barely get him to shut up about you.” She winked.

Beth laughed and smiled, though there seemed to be more emotions behind it than just happiness. “I’m sure he did.” She gestured to the car and they got in together, Phoebe sitting in the back this time. “What exactly are you studying at university?”

“I’m getting a Master’s in biochemistry,” Phoebe replied.

Beth made a small noise of approval in the back of her throat. “Impressive,” she hummed, and she seemed to mean it. Everything about her facial expression said she was indeed impressed. “What got you interested in biochemistry?”

Phoebe grinned happily. Talking about her passions always made her feel like she was glowing. “I’ve always loved science—in fact I excel at my work,” she confessed, “ but originally I only saw it as a hobby. I only went into getting official degrees in Chemistry and Biology when I realized people didn't take me seriously, whether because of my gender or because of the color of my skin or my age. I wanted to force them to show me some respect and pay attention.”

She saw a flash of understanding light up Beth’s eyes. “I can relate, at least as far as not being taken seriously enough. It’s so frustrating when people don’t acknowledge your accomplishments or hard work.” She nodded, and Phoebe noticed that Beth glanced rather pointedly at an oblivious Jerry while speaking. Ouch, not subtle at all. Apparently Jerry really needed to get his shit together and work on the relationships in his life, unless his wife hated him for no reason.

The conversation thankfully turned away from her after the small inquiry. They ordered their tacos to go and ate lunch at home. After the meal, Jerry went into his man cave, Summer went to a friend’s house, and Beth went into the living-room to read. Morty very noticeably had nothing to do, alerting Phoebe by dragging his feet and glancing anxiously at the door leading to the garage. “Hey Morty,” she said, pausing by the door to look at him as he pushed his chair underneath the table in slow motion. “Want to send some quality time with your new favorite aunt?”

Morty jumped. “W-what would we be doing?” He asked, eyes widening.

“Nothing too risky,” Phoebe said in a teasing tone to alleviate some of his anxiety. “Maybe play some video games or look at my crystals go over which of your local plants are safe to touch and which are poisonous.”

“Um, I guess that sounds okay,” Morty scratched at the back of his head.

Phoebe gestured for him to come over to her. “Wonderful. It’s so nice I have a nephew with whom I can share my video games and crystal collection.”

“Uh, yeah, sure Phoebe,” he said, sounding considerably calmer. She put her arm around his shoulders and guided him upstairs to her room.

A little while after they left the room, the door in the kitchen that led to the garage opened and one silvery eye peered through the crack. He slipped out, quietly making his way to and from the downstairs bathroom. He had no desire to encounter the latest resident of the Smith house until he could no longer avoid running into her.


	4. Following Rick

_Day Nine_

A little over a week passed before Phoebe caught a glimpse of Rick. It happened during her morning routine. She usually got up early to pray, meditate, and burn incense when it wouldn’t disturb anyone. Sometimes she would use the time to do Pilates exercises, or go for a run. Afterward she would grab a quick shower, and, if she had class that day, Jerry would take her to campus. Unlike undergrad, most of her “work”, barring lab work, was researching, reading and discussion. Luckily for her she could speedread 20,000 word a minute and enjoyed the content, otherwise the long passages would have been torture. Having a vested interest in the material on top of an eidetic memory virtually ensured she could never forget any useful information she might need for later, and she rarely took physical notes (and when she did, they were written in a weird combination of English and Mandarin).

Phoebe was just finishing up a Pilates circuit when she thought she heard light footsteps in the hallway. She paused, and when she heard nothing more she decided she was imagining things and that she was still the lone soul awake at that early hour. She continued her movements, keeping her breathing slow and even as she slowly slid into a downward facing dog. The muscles in her right leg were a bit tight, and since no one was around she didn’t bother to hold in her moan as they let her know exactly how unhappy with her they were for her infraction. She eased her heels down to lay flat on the floor and let loose another moan. No matter how long she did this, the burning itch and pain of a muscle stretching would always be uncomfortable.

She shifted a little, tightening her hold to get a good stretch, then fluidly released it by walking out into a plank, doing a push up, and walking back up into down dog. Her leg was still tight, and for the third time she moaned. This time she held the pose for far longer, forcing herself to stay still and ignore the strange, hellish burn-itch sensation until the muscles loosened. She unfurled from her position and stood, ending her session. She pulled the front of her shirt up as she turned around to wipe at the sweat on her face. When she lowered the fabric she nearly jumped out of her skin as she became aware of the presence of a strange man at the entrance of the room. He was leaning against one side of the doorframe, tall and all limbs, willowy like a tree, hair wild. He wore a lab coat over a blue shirt and brown pants. When she got to his eyes, she relaxed a little out of the tense stance she had taken upon finding a strange man watching her. His eyes were familiar, though she was used to seeing them in the faces of Summer, Morty, and Beth. His eyes were silvery just like theirs, but somehow more intense, brighter, uncanny. It only made sense if they all came from him. He might be strange, but he was no stranger. This had to be Rick. The footsteps..._just my imagination my ass_ she berated herself.

They spent an uncomfortably long moment staring at each other, Phoebe uncertain what thoughts were passing through his head. “Your eyes,” Phoebe finally spoke, “they all have your beautiful eyes: Beth, Morty, Summer, all three of them.” She took a step toward him and held out her hand. “You must be Rick. I’m Phoebe.”

Rick’s eyes, which she belatedly realized had been tracking up and down her body, shot to her face, completely ignoring her outstretched hand and forcing her to drop it. “Beautiful eyes, huh? You think I have beautiful eyes?” His voice, which was a little rough, sounded as if he found something funny about it.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Phoebe replied honestly, sensing surprise from him. Surprise that she found them beautiful? Surprise that she was honest about it? She had no idea. “I’ve never seen anything quite like them.” She swiped her face with the bottom of her shirt again, not noticing Rick’s face as he gazed at her. Her beautiful dark flesh glistened in the low light, slick with sweat. By the time she looked at him again he had schooled his features. She felt like she was melting, but that hardly mattered with Rick standing in front of her. What she really wanted to do was reach the refuge of her room and lay on the cold floor naked until her body cooled down, but that was impossible. At least she didn’t have to go to campus that day, so she could spend as much time as she wanted trying to speak to the elusive Rick.

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” Rick shrugged.

Phoebe smirked, feeling playful. “I think I could.”

Rick’s eyebrow quirked upwards, then he belched. “Y-you’re not like Jerry, are you?”

“Not white?” Phoebe asked, not sure where he was going with his question.

Rick rolled his eyes. “No, not an idiot. I can tell. You’re—” _belch_ “—not nearly as stupid as he is. Then again, that’s a—” _belch _“—low bar. Doesn’t really prove anything.”

“Pfft,” Phoebe said cockily, jutting her chin, “I’d like to think I’m not stupid at all.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Rick sneered.

“Oh? And your opinion matters because…?” she looked at him innocently from underneath her long lashes.

Rick snorted derisively. “Because someone has to be the smartest guy in the room, and that will always be me.”

Phoebe stepped even closer to him. “Prove it then,” she taunted playfully. “Wow me. Dazzle me with your intellect.”

Rick smirked diabolically. “Oh, I plan to.”

“Good.” They were...clicking, it seemed. He didn’t seem nearly as bad as she feared. She swaggered to the door, mat slung up on one shoulder, and slipped by him into the dinning room. “Don’t disappear on me,” she said, turning to him. “I want to get to know everyone and you’re no exception.”

Rick scoffed and crossed his long arms. “Don’t hold your breath. I don’t babysit Jerry’s family.”

“Oh, you won’t have to babysit me. I don’t need adult supervision,” Phoebe shot back smoothly.

Rick rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What do you know.”

“I made _and _flew a hovercraft when I was fifteen. I think I can handle myself.”

Rick actually seemed vaguely impressed. “Definitely smarter than Jerry,” he remarked. “At fifteen he couldn’t find his own asshole to wipe.”

“_Eww_ Grandpa Rick, don’t be gross,” Summer’s voice broke in, heralding her arrival. Glancing over, Phoebe saw her enter the room along with Beth and Morty. “Hey Aunt Phoebe,” Summer added.

Beth smiled at Phoebe. “Have breakfast with us,” she invited her.

“I will after a quick shower,” Phoebe said. Just then Jerry entered the room. As soon as he saw Rick he scowled. He greeted Phoebe, but not Rick, and sat down.

Phoebe readjusted the mat, then addressed Rick again. “I really need to go shower, but it was nice to finally get to meet you, Rick.”

Rick shrugged, the picture of indifference, but Phoebe could actually see his face, and so saw the small smile that twitched into place for less than two seconds. His eyes were on Jerry, glaring hatefully. Those two clearly had some fucking issues. She left to go shower, leaping up the stairs two at a time. A shower really would be nice, then she could be clean and cool and not sticky anymore. She could always hunt Rick down later.

Phoebe rushed through the shower at lightning speed, not wanting to waste her day and especially not wanting Rick to sneak out of the house instead of just out of the room. She wasn’t sure she’d ever washed her body or finished rinsing conditioner through her hair quite that fast. She practically threw her clothes on: a long pleated skirt, knee-high black boots, a loose blouse made of breathable fabric that fell in folds, a shimmery scarf. She grabbed her phone and tucked it into her pocket, then grabbed her knives and tucked them into place. With a last glance around the room, she walked back downstairs for breakfast.

XXX

Breakfast was an interesting affair. It revealed even more things. Apparently Rick took Morty out of school a lot for field trips and science experiments, at least from what she could tell. Not to mention he apparently kept Morty out at night too. Maybe for Astronomy? She intended to ask. She had too many unanswered questions from offhand comments and vague references. Phoebe always had to have her answers. She hated not knowing something. She did the dishes and cleanup since she had the day free, finding that cleaning by hand helped her think. Maybe she felt guilty for wanting to laugh at the disparaging remark that Rick made about Jerry earlier. It was _funny_, goddammit, but it made her feel like a bad sister for not doing more to defend him in the moment. It’s not as if she were short on comebacks, if she used her banter with Rick as a means of measurement.

Phoebe got her Nintendo 3DS from the room and claimed a chair in the kitchen as her own. Her oh-so-clever plan was to wait for Rick to come through the kitchen. Either he would come out of the garage into the kitchen, or he would come into the kitchen from some other part of the house to get there. She mindlessly played through _Ultra Moon _for a few hours, every once in a while glancing at the forbidden door. At some point she suddenly got the feeling that she needed to get up and move. She saved the game in a rush and closed the powered-down DS, laying on the table flush to the wall. Maybe she should just go in and see if he was there? If he wasn’t she could come right back out without touching anything.

Despite her instincts screaming at her to rush she approached the door with caution. She felt a little silly, but she also felt a bit like the first character in a horror movie to bite it. She was standing an inch apart from the door before she really processed moving, and then she was grasping the doorknob. To her surprise, when she tried it the knob gave and the door slid open a little. In front of her she watched as Rick pulled out a strange gun, aiming it at the open air in front of him. A large, glowing green circle of energy appeared. Rick started to step through it. She wanted to call out and ask him about it, but something told her to stay silent and still, to wait. One leg and arm sank into the green energy, and she tentatively inched forward, all of her muscles tensed to spring. As he leaned in and his second leg began lifting away she forced herself to move as quietly as she could. As he pulled his long leg the rest of the way through, she touched the swirling green energy with both hands, stepping forward into it.

A tugging sensation near her middle, and she was yanked through. The journey didn’t last long. Somehow she was now standing in the shadow of a building that Phoebe recognized immediately as Morty’s school. She felt a bit dazed, taking a second to adjust. When she did, she saw that Rick had already stalked off, only just catching sight of the edge of his white lab coat as he went around the corner of the building. She hurried to make sure she wouldn't lose him. He slipped into the building with Phoebe hot on his heels only thirty seconds later and just out of sight. Phoebe kept her eyes trained on Rick as he navigated the area with practiced ease and purpose. Phoebe had only been inside the school once, and she never went past that first hallway. She tried not to follow too closely, conscious of just how exposed she was. If he turned around he would see her! It turned out that her worry was short-lived. The bell rang for class change and students spilled out into the hallways, making it infinitely easier to follow Rick without worrying about exposure. She was young enough to blend in, and it reassured her nerves a bit that he had yet to see her in the clothes she wore. Maybe he _wouldn’t _spot her immediately.

She still had no idea why her gut told her to follow him, but she could feel this leading up to something. Her mind whirled, piecing two and two together and making connections as she walked. Rick clearly had a device that could create portals, enabling instantaneous travel. The man really _was_ brilliant. Why he would use the device only to go to Morty’s school puzzled her, up until he turned a corner and they came upon Morty. Who, she realized, was being crushed against a locker and held at knife-point by a tall, thuggish, gothic looking kid. His voice floated down the hall to her. _“You telling me how to bully now? Big mistake, Morty and now I'm gonna cut you, 'cause my family's rich.” _Panicked, she started to rush in and help him, but Rick was already on them, his hand pulling something out of his pocket. As the thug pressed the knife to Morty’s throat, Rick touched something to his back and he suddenly froze solid. _A fucking freeze-gun? Oh my god, just shit a brick and fuck me with it. What would he be able to do next, dimension hopping and space travel? Cloning? _

Rick stepped around the solid block of bully as if he did it every day. For all she knew, he did. Things just got stranger and stranger. “There you are, Morty,” he said conversationally, stowing the small freeze-gun in an inner pocket of his lab coat. “Listen to me. I got an errand to run in a whole different dimension. I need an extra pair of hands.” Phoebe stopped dead. _A whole different dimension. Poseidon’s nipples, when I said those things I was being sarcastic for fuck’s sake! _She held her breath, hoping neither Rick nor Morty would notice her standing there. She was fairly certain Rick had not intended for her to follow them.

Morty’s fretful voice kept her from sinking too far into her own thoughts. “Oh, geez, Rick. W-w-what'd you do to Frank?”

Phoebe could practically hear the eye roll in his voice as he drawled, “It's pretty obvious, Morty. I froze him.” Rick put a hand on Morty’s shoulder, then took him by both shoulders. “Now listen. I need your help, Morty. I mean, we got—we got to get—get the hell out of here,” he pulled him back and forth for emphasis, “and go take care of business.” _Belch, belch_. “It's important. Come on, Morty.”

Morty wrung his hands, clearly conflicted. “I don't know, Rick. I can't leave school again. My parents are pretty worried about my grades.”

Nevertheless, Rick persisted. “Do you have any concept of how much higher the stakes get out there, Morty? What, do you think I can just do it all by myself? Come on!”

At last, Morty relented. “Aw, geez. Okay. I guess I can skip history. What about Frank? I mean, shouldn't you unfreeze him?”

Rick brushed that aside as if it were a minor detail. “I'll do it later, Morty. He'll be fine. Let's go.”

Seeing them start to whip around and come her way she hastily back-tracked and ducked down by a group of students at their lockers, pretending to be tying her shoe. She gave them twenty seconds to speed past her, and then she straightened and followed them.


	5. Dimension 35-C

_Day Nine, Part Two_

Phoebe assumed that they would leave from the same place they arrived, but instead found herself following Rick and Morty for a few blocks. She had to put more distance between them without hordes of students to duck behind or bathrooms and classrooms to dive into to avoid being seen. Seemingly at random they stepped into an alley, and she picked up her pace, filled with the same sense of urgency she experienced earlier. She got there just in time to hear Rick say, “There she is.” She flattened herself against the wall and held her breath. “All right. Come on, Morty. Let’s go.” She exhaled in relief.

“Oh, geez, okay,” she heard Morty say.

She peeked around the corner and saw the two of them standing before a green circle of energy, which she now knew was a portal. Rick stepped in, then Morty. Before she could lose her nerve and change her mind (and before it could close), Phoebe bunched her muscles and then threw herself around the corner, dashed straight toward the portal. She touched it, feeling it sucking at her skin, and then she was stumbling through.

Right into Morty. Rick was talking, but when she came through she sent Morty pitching straight into Rick, who was apparently much stronger than he looked, as he managed not to tumble over under their combined weight. Whatever explanation Rick had been giving cut off when she knocked Morty into him. His hands shot out, one steadying each of them. Phoebe looked up to see Rick scowling at her.

“Phoebe!” Morty exclaimed in surprise at the same moment that Rick snapped, “What the _fuck _are you doing here? Did you follow us?”

Phoebe blushed. Perhaps she had been a bit impulsive to just follow him through a portal willy-nilly without knowing the destination. “Yes, I followed you. I saw you take the portal to Morty’s school and I followed the two of you from there, which in hindsight might not have been the best decision, heh…” She shrugged and met his scowl with a sheepish grin. She regained her balance and shrugged his hand off of her shoulder, glancing around her. “What is this place?”

“Y-y-you can’t just show up,” Rick hissed. “R-r-riding in on our coattails like that. This is Rick and Morty business, not a free field trip.”

“Aw, come on, Rick, let her stay,” Morty said. “You said you needed extra hands, Phoebe has extra hands. Plus, I’m kind of scared and she makes me feel better, Rick. I mean, oh, man, Rick. I'm looking around this place, and I'm starting to work up some anxiety about this whole thing, and I feel safer with her here.”

Rick massaged his temples, eyes closing, as if the two of them were giving him a headache. He exhaled noisily. “All right, all right. First of all, I can’t fucking believe this shit.” He threw both hands into the air, eyes open again. “Second of all, fine, f-fucking fine, Morty, have it your way, the stowaway can stay—” Rick locked eyes with her, dead serious. “But don’t screw this up for me, Phoebe. I’m not fucking around.”

“Noted,” she said.

Rick held eye contact for a moment longer before breaking it and speaking directly to Morty, who, despite his assurances that she made him feel safer, was still clearly on edge. Rick knelt down to his level and put both hands on his shoulders. He sounded calmer, almost soothing, when he spoke to him, as if he’d leashed his feelings about Phoebe’s sudden appearance. “Second of all, calm down, Morty. Listen to me, Morty. I know that new situations can be intimidating. You're looking around, and it's all scary and different, but, you know, m-meeting them head on, charging right into them like a bull that's how we grow as people. I'm no stranger to scary situations. I deal with them all the time. Now, if you just stick with me and your nosy Aunt, Morty, we're gonna be—”

Rick’s eyes grew as round as saucers, his mouth opening in horror. Anything that scared the cocky scientist that badly must be awful. She felt once more like a participant in a horror movie as she turned her head just slightly to see—and wished she hadn’t. A giant green alien monster, spider-like in appearance and with lolling tongues and drool dripping from its horrifying mouth, stood just inches from the back of Morty’s head. _Fuckfuckfuckshitdamnfuckfuckityfuck. _

Rick shouted, “HOLY CRAP, MORTY RUN!!!”

Phoebe doesn’t take it personally that he didn’t say her name. She just takes off with them. Being a runner, younger than Rick, and longer-legged than Morty she easily takes the lead.

Rick continues hollering as they go. “I’ve never seen that thing before in my life. I don't even know what the hell it is! We got to get out of here, Morty! It's gonna kill us! We're gonna die! We're gonna die, Morty!”

“Not if I can help it!” Phoebe snapped. She withdrew one of her knives without breaking stride, turned on her heel, and took aim. She nailed the creature right in the eye—well, one of them, it had at least eight. Immediately disgusting black blood started pouring from the wound. The creature bellowed in rage and pain. It didn’t stop charging, but she knew it must be harder for it to chase after them with a part of its field of vision gone.

“What the hell? Where the fuck did that come from?” Rick spat.

“You can throw knives?!” Morty squealed.

Taking time to aim and throw had allowed them to catch up with her, and they were running on either side of her now.

“Yes, and from my sleeve. I always carry weapons with me in case I need one.”

“If I wasn’t terrified of dying or mad at you for tagging along I would appreciate this more,” Rick panted. “Still, I’m impressed with your aim.”

“Thanks,” Phoebe grinned grimly. “Unfortunately this would have worked better on a creature with three eyes or less.” Wait… “Rick,” she gasped suddenly, “That freezing device! Could you use it on the creature?”

“No, it requires contact,” he said, “I’m not an idiot. If it worked I would have tried it already!”

“I don’t think you’re stupid I think we’re all freaking the fuck out!”

Rick sneered. “Well before you ask, we can’t use the portal gun. The creature is too close. It’ll just follow us through.”

“Well aren’t we just on fuck mountain today,” Phoebe glowered. “We are _so_ boned.”

Before Rick could snap back another reply to her, Morty tripped. “Fuck, Morty!”

Phoebe and Rick both ground to a halt. Rick withdrew the freezing device with grim determination. Phoebe withdrew her dagger from her boot. She leaped in front of Morty, barely conscious of Rick’s movements. The creature’s disgusting tongue wrapped around her waist and pulled her up. She started stabbing whatever she could reach, tongue, gums, inner cheek. Disgusting black blood squirted and spurted onto her clothes. _Fuck_. That was _so_ not coming out. The creature reared and dropped her, scuttling backward. She kept lashing outward, not conscious of the hissing sound and low imitation growl she was making. “No one eats my nephew, especially a fuckface like you!”

Obviously deciding that they were more effort than they were worth, the monster fled. Phoebe kept threatening it until it was a good distance away. As soon as it was she instantly slumped in relief. “Oh sweet Jesus, oh fuck, oh Zeus’ left testicles that was fucking terrifying.”

She slowly turned around, half afraid Rick and Morty would be gone. Instead, she saw an awe-struck Morty and an appraising Rick scrutinizing her again, though this time he was very, _very_ clearly impressed, and his sharp silver eyes held a tinge of respect.

“I’m not getting my other knife back,” she said dumbly, mostly because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Nope,” Rick said. “I’ll buy you another one.” He stepped closer to her. “Are you—are you hurt, Phoebe?”

Phoebe blinked. This was the first time he’d ever used her name. “I don’t think so.” She looked down at herself. “I think it’s only my clothes and not me.” She looked up at him, then at Morty. “I hope you see this as proof of my love, Morty. This was my favorite shirt.”

“Oh, ah, geez, Phoebe, I’m sorry, I—”

She reached out and ruffled his hair with her clean hand. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Didn’t you know? Saving you from being eaten by weird ass monsters is what aunts do.”

Morty laughed nervously. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Still grinning, she looked at Rick again and stuck out her clean hand. “Friends?”

He stared at her for several moments, then took her hand in his. “Close enough,” he said evenly, “If by ‘friend’ you mean ‘one of five people I _don’t _hate’, and let’s be clear, I hate most people, then yes. ‘Friend’ is certainly shorter than ‘my son-in-law’s half-sister who saved mine and Morty’s asses from a gory death by shanking a horrible monster from another dimension.’”

She wrinkled her nose. “Eh, I don’t know, sounds catchy,” she teased. “Heroic, even.”

“You mean pretentious,” he smirked.

Phoebe shrugged. “It’s all the same.” She gestured wide to indicate their surroundings. “What were you here to do? I missed the speech the first time.”

So they started walking, and Rick explained again that it was Dimension 35-C, that it had the perfect climate conditions for a special type of tree that he called a Mega Tree, and that the seeds of the fruit were special. The so called Mega Seeds had special properties, and he needed some samples for his research.

“Oh, Morty, Phoebe, take a deep breath,” he said after a while, “Breathe that—breathe that fresh air in, Morty and Phoebe. Y-you smell that? That's the smell of adventure. That's—that's the smell of-of-of-of a whole different evolutionary timeline.”

“Fascinating,” Phoebe said in wonderment, staring at a few odd eyeball-bat things as they flew by. “Organisms with completely different biochemistry from anything in our dimension. They could be made of different elements, they could use different organic compounds in their metabolic processes, they undoubtedly form unique biomes.”

Her words seemed to please Rick, animate him. “Exactly, Phoebe, exactly.” The more they talked, the more she thought he realized that she was perhaps the only person around him who could appreciate what he told them, _really_ appreciate it.

Morty’s quivering voice cut into their excited science babbling. “All right, Rick, look, how much longer is this gonna be? Shouldn't I be back at school by now?”

“Probably,” Phoebe was the one to respond, surprising them both, “but you almost died, so I think they’ll understand. Plus, you’re learning things, science things.”

“Science isn’t everything, Phoebe,” Morty protested weakly, inadvertently offending both his aunt and his grandfather.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Phoebe yelped. “Science is everything. Everything you do is scientifically quantifiable, Morty: eating, sleeping, picking your nose—by the way, did you know that’s _good_ for you? It helps your immune system.”

Rick had a rant of his own. “Phoebe’s right, Morty. I mean, look at all the crazy crap surrounding us. Look at that thing right there.” Another monster was nearby, though this one had far less sharp teeth. It was equally disgusting, enough. It looked like an inside-out used condom, green and drooping, with multiple limbs and lolling tongue. It dropped down to the ground, cooed, and rolled around. “What the hell is that thing? You think you're gonna see that kind of thing at school? Look at it just lumbering around. It defies all logic, that thing.”

“I would love to dissect that in a lab,” Phoebe breathed, her breath coming in short, excited bursts.

Morty seemed faintly horrified, while Rick seemed amused. “This is your wet dream, huh? You like weird shit?”

Phoebe glared at him. “You made my scientific inquiry sound like a kink thing.”

Rick shrugged. “Is it?”

Morty covered his ears. “Rick, why! TMI!” he wailed. “I get it. We're surrounded by monsters and Phoebe wants to cut them open to see what color their insides are or something. The monsters are kind of the reason why I want to leave. We almost got eaten earlier!”

“Yeah, but the important thing is that we didn’t, Morty.”

“You might next time,” Phoebe suggested, “if you don’t bring me along from now on. You never know when you need someone on your team with stabby weapons.”

They came to the edge of a cliff and stopped. “Are those the trees you’re looking for, Rick?” Phoebe pointed.

“Way to take away my dramatic reveal, Phoebe,” Rick grouched, though she could tell he wasn’t really annoyed. “Yes, those are the Mega Trees. You see what we just stumbled upon, Morty? Mega Trees.”

“I see that, Rick,” Morty sighed.

“That's right, Morty the Mega Trees with the Mega Fruit on them, and that's what I'm talking about, Morty. That's where my seeds are. If we would have done what you wanted, I would have never have found them, because you're so in love with school.”

Phoebe cleared her throat. “You wouldn’t have ever found them if you were eviscerated by that beast and then slurped up like puppy chow, either.”

“Yes, yes, you following us turned out to be a good thing and you want to tag along with us.” He rolled his eyes. “I got your damn memo, woman.”

Phoebe blew him a kiss using her middle finger.

“Um, Rick, are you two are done? What's so special about these seeds, anyways?”

Rick sneered. “You ask a lot of questions, Morty. Not very charismatic. It makes you kind of an—” _belch_ “—under—” _belch “—_underfoot figure.”

Rick pulled out a pair of shoes and handed them to Morty, who immediately started shoving his feet into them with no questions asked. Phoebe looked at Rick she’s and wondered what sort of adventures they’d had that made Morty trust him so implicitly. She cocked her head, listening intently and watching him gesture. “Just take these shoes, Morty. They're—” _belch “—s_pecial grappling shoes. When you're wearing these things, these babies, you can basically just walk on any surface you want, Morty up, down, below, turn around to the left. These things really bring it all together.”

This time Rick was interrupted by Morty screaming rather than someone following him through a portal or a giant monster trying to make a Rick-skabob. Phoebe’s head snapped to where Morty had been sitting earlier. Had he been abducted by some sort of flying creature? She never should have taken her eyes off of—the sick sound of flesh hitting the ground hard made her stomach lurch and stopped her thought in its tracks. She turned and pushed Rick. “I didn’t keep you from turning into mincemeat so you could get Morty mortally injured a different way!”

“Calm your tits, Phee, it wasn’t intentional! He didn’t turn on the damn shoes!”

Morty’s moans of pain could be heard from where they stood.

She held out her hands. “Well give me a pair, I’ll go help him while you gather your seeds.”

“I only have one more,” Rick explained. “I didn’t know you’d sneak along for the ride.”

“Um, Rick, Phoebe,” Morty half-sobbed-half-screamed, “could you MAYBE ARGUE LATER AND HELP ME!”

“Shit, fuck, he’s right, of course he’s right.” Phoebe eyed Rick from head to toe.

“Is there a weight limit on the shoes?”

“What? No. That would be idiotic.”

She nodded decisively. “Alright then. Here’s the plan. Either you carry me on your back or I carry you on mine. One walks, one rides.”

Rick sighed, taking out the shoes. “Since they actually fit me I’ll wear them.”

“Alright then,” Phoebe conceded. He put them on, and surprisingly enough dropped down so she could climb onto his back. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders and neck, careful not to choke him. She settled her chin on his right shoulder.

“Ah, fuck you’re bony,” he complained instantly. “I’m being stabbed in five places.”

“You did turn _your_ shoes on?” she murmured by his ear, ignoring his comment. “If we all walk off a cliff and horribly cripple ourselves I’m not sure how we’ll get home.”

“Yeah,” Rick snapped, “I know.” She noticed he double-checked anyway before he took a confident step off of the cliff. The shoes worked just as he said they would, and they made it to the bottom uneventfully.

When they got to the bottom they were met with the alarming image of Morty lying on his back like a crushed bug with his legs, both clearly horribly broken in multiple places, sticking up and out at odd angles.

“Fuck us both, we are _such assholes_,” Phoebe gasped. “We should have been watching him.” She slid from his back, hand going to her mouth as she gazed in horror at Morty’s crumpled body. They were both _so fucked_. How could they possibly take him home like that?

Rick had a similar look on his face—one of concern and horror. His hand went to his forehead. “Morty, oh, you really d-did a number on your legs right now. You know, you got to turn the shoes on, Morty, for them to work. Yeah, look I turned mine on. Me and Phoebe are fine, see, I had no problem getting down here. It was a leisurely breeze.”

Phoebe nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Wow, Rick, fuck you. Knock it off, this is so _not_ the time.”

“Oh, god, Phoebe, Rick,” Morty moaned miserably. “I’m in a lot of pain! Everything hurts.”

“Yeah, uh, I can see that. But do you think you'll still be able to help me collect my seeds, Morty?”

Phoebe elbowed him again. “Double fuck you! Can’t you see he’s in pain? Priorities!”

“Broken legs or not, I still need my seeds, Phee,” Rick snapped.

“Screw your damn seeds if we can’t do something to fix Morty. Can the seeds heal him?”

“N-no! What? No! They’re not those kinds of seeds, Phoebe.”

Morty exploded. “Are you kidding me?! That's it, Rick! That's the last straw! I can't believe this! I'm sitting here with both of my legs broken, and you're still asking me about getting those damn seeds?! Ooh! Ow! Oh! Y-y-you're a monster. Y-you're like Hitler, but-but even Hitler cared about Germany or something!”

“Okay, hold on just a second, Morty. I’ll be right back,” Rick said. He opened a portal and stepped through.

Phoebe dropped down to her knees beside Morty and took his hand. “Hey, hey, kid, Morty, focus on me, focus on the sound of my voice, hey.” She smoothed his hair against his scalp and started singing a soft Mandarin lullaby.

“That’s really nice, Phoebe,” he panted. He was obviously still in immense pain but it took his mind off it for a moment. If Rick didn’t come back soon she might just murder him a little. But only a little.


	6. Mad Dash

_Day Nine, Part Three_

Rick returned a few minutes later and jabbed a syringe filled with purple fluid directly into the closest leg. Both of his legs straightened out instantly as if by magic.

Morty’s moans cut off and turned into amazement. “Wow, Rick. That stuff just healed my broken legs instantly.” He got up and hopped foot to foot. “I mean, I've never felt so good in my life. Thank you!”

“Neat,” Phoebe commented. “I’d love to study that compound at length if there’s any left.”

“There’s a little,” Rick held it out for her to examine as he moved closer to the tree. “Morty, Don't worry about it. Just come help me get these seeds, all right, buddy?”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. Those damn seeds must be hella important.

Restored to his former mobility, Morty agreed instantly. “Sure thing, Rick,” he chirped, scaling the tree and grabbing the first fruit within reach.

Rick, like he had many times before, launched into an explanation. “Not that either of you asked, but what just happened there is I went into a future dimension with such advanced medicine that they had broken-leg serum at every corner drugstore. The stuff was all over the place.”

“That must have been fascinating,” Phoebe said. “That means they don’t have cancer and HIV too, then, if they bothered making a broken bone serum?”

“Oh, no, still HIV, but no cancer,” Rick shrugged.

“Wow, that's pretty crazy, Rick,” Morty said. He tossed down a seed and Rick caught it.

Rick continued with his story, and for some reason Phoebe had a sinking feeling. “There's just one problem, Morty and Phoebe, one little hang-up. The dimension I visited was so advanced, that—” _belch _“—they had also halted the aging process, and everyone there was young, and they had been forever. I was the only old person there, Morty and Phoebe.” _Belch. _He broke the fruit open and began rubbing the insides against Morty’s head. _ “_It was like I was some sort of, you know, celebrity, walking around. I-I was fascinating to them. There were a lot of attractive women there, Morty and Phoebe, and they-they-they— they all wanted time with me. I had a lot of fun with a lot of young ladies, but I spent so much time there, my interdimensional portal device—Morty and Phoebe, it's got no charge left. The device.”

“What?!” Morty was understandably panicked.

“What the fuck, Rick, are we stranded somewhere because you wanted to use your other head?” Phoebe snapped.

“That’s a low blow, Pheebs,” Rick scowled. He threw the fruit and seeds onto the ground and held his hands up, fists curled. “At any rate, the portal gun is unusable right now. It's as good as garbage, Morty and Phoebe. It's not gonna work anymore.”

Morty wailed in distress. “Oh, geez, Rick, that's not good. W-what are we gonna do? I-I have to be back at school right now. How are we gonna get back home?”

“I have school too—grad school.” Phoebe tapped her foot and looked at him expectantly. Sure, she followed him when he didn’t ask her to, but he was the asshole who was supposed to have the way home.

“Don’t get your pantries in a bunch, you two. There's ways to get back home. It's just—it's just gonna be a little bit of a hassle. We're gonna have to go through interdimensional customs, so Morty, you're gonna have to do me a real solid, and Phoebe, I don’t want any objections unless you’re willing to be the one who takes one for the team.”

“Uh-oh,” Morty cringed.

Rick licked his lips. “When we get to customs, I'm gonna need you to take these seeds into the bathroom, Morty, unless Phoebe is feeling like a martyr, and I'm gonna need you to put them way up inside your butthole, Morty.”

Phoebe felt like she was choking on her own tongue. “What?” Phoebe croaked.

“In my butt?” Morty wailed.

“Put them way up inside there, as far as they can fit,” he gestured with his hands and arms for emphasis.

“Jesus,” Phoebe breathed, wincing in sympathy.

Morty was not enthused. “Oh, geez, Rick. I really don't want to have to do that.” Who could blame him, really. Who wanted to shove two giant seeds up their ass unless they had a fetish or a kink or something?

“Well, somebody's got to do it, Morty. Th-these seeds aren't gonna get through customs unless they're in someone's rectum, Morty. Don’t be selfish, Morty. D-Don’t, don’t look at Phoebe like that, Morty, this is all you here, buddy.”

“Uuuh.” Morty seemed reluctant.

Rick went on and on. He was a definite over-sharer of gory details. “And they'll fall right out of mine. I've done this too many times, Morty.” _Zeus’ saggy balls, how often did he shove seeds into his ass? _ Phoebe cringed to herself and he kept talking. “I mean, you're young. Y-y-you've got your whole life ahead of you, and your anal cavity is still taut, yet malleable. You got to do it for grandpa, Morty. For your aunt. She’s got grad school Morty, and I can’t ask her to put them in her rectum. Y—” _Belch. _ “—you've got to put these seeds inside your butt.”

_Oh my sweet Dionysus, did he really just say that?!_

“In my butt?”

“Come on, Morty. Please, Morty. You have to do it, Morty.”

“Oh, man.”

“Do they have to be in a rectum?” Phoebe interrupted, completely ignoring their apparent illegality. She was just tired of hearing Rick beg Morty to allow him to shove stuff up his asshole. “Or just hidden from view?”

“Rectum,” he shrugged.

Phoebe bit her lip and looked at Morty, who had pleading eyes turned on her. “Sorry kid,” she shrugged. She clapped him on the shoulder. “When you do it, bend over slightly and slide them in at an angle. It’ll make them go in easier. Oh, and uh…” she looked at Rick, “So they have lube in the middle of buttfuck nowhere or wherever we are right now, right?”

“Phoebe!” Morty pleaded weakly.

Phoebe shrugged again. “Sorry, I tried. Also, rather you than I. Plus, I already contributed to the team, I stabbed the monster that tried to eat you, and Rick fixed your legs,” she shrugged. “Your turn.” She petted him on the shoulder and looked at Rick. “So, Rick, about that lube…”

XXX

“I hate you so much,” Phoebe screamed over the commotion. Thanks to Morty’s quick thinking when they were busted at customs they had run up a wall and along upper levels—or rather, Rick and Morty had run while she clung to Rick like a limpet, squeezing him tighter and tighter. She bounced with every forward stride as Rick ran, hanging onto his back for dear life.

“That’s nothing new,” he shouted. “You’re going to hate me a little more before this is over.”

She wasn’t sure where he was going with that until he jumped and they were dangling from something floating over the waiting area—a baggage shuttle, judging by the brief glimpse of it she had when they went flying through the air. “Fuck you so much, Rick,” she hissed in his ear.

“Later,” he shot back, and if they weren’t hanging onto the barge by only his fingertips she might have kicked him. Then he let go, and she was sorely tempted to do it anyway.

Their fall was broken by some purple blob creature, the poor fuck. She rolled off of Rick’s back and sprang up, running with Rick and Morty once more now that they were back on solid ground. It was a straight shot. They bolted down the hallway toward the portal room, skidding to a halt in front of the portal computer.

Rick bent over the machine, typing frantically. “I need to type in the coordinates to our home world, Phoebe and Morty. Cover me.” He tossed a gun to Morty.

Morty dithered. “Oh, man. I mean, you know, I-I don't want to shoot nobody.”

“They're just robots, Morty! It's okay to shoot them! They're robots!” Rick shouted distractedly.

Phoebe scoffed. She knew very well they weren’t robots, but she didn’t give a damn. Who knew what would happen to them if they were caught? Someone might try to eat them again, or they might be executed or something! Phoebe added her two cents in, shouting fiercely, “It’s us or them, Morty! I’m personally choosing us.”

Phoebe resigned herself to using more of her weapons. “You owe me so many things at this point, Rick, namely a new outfit, two knives, and more senbon,” she told him, then she marched over and took position. Just as Morty took aim and shot at a guard, taking off his leg, she flicked out the knife that survived the spider attack and threw it, nailing a guard in the chest. He went down like a marionette with its strings cut, a gaping wound visible where her knife hit its mark. Blood welled up, blue instead of black.

“Aaaaah! My leg is shot off!” the one Morty injured cried out.

A companion of his dropped down and cradled him in his arms. “Glenn's bleeding to death! Someone call his wife and children!”

“Kyle’s dead!” Someone else cried. “Someone’s throwing knives!”

They’d both drawn blood it seemed, except Morty was freaking out over it and she wasn’t.

“They're not robots, Rick!”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Phoebe yelled. “I totally called it.”

“It's a figure of speech, Morty. They're bureaucrats. I don't respect them. Just keep shooting, Morty. And Phoebe, you beautiful, vicious woman, you-you just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. You have no idea what prison is like here!”

She just _knew_ it would be something awful if they were caught. Prison, lovely. She went from being a science nerd to a criminal over the course of a few hours.

Morty kept shooting, his aim indiscriminate as long as it meant the people outside were pinned down and couldn’t advance. For her part, Phoebe only aimed at any guard who tried getting closer and got halfway or more. Morty did most of the work because most of them weren’t stupid enough to try anything, but one did and ended up with two gleaming senbon of all things sticking out of his throat. He coughed up blood then dropped dead.

“Holy crap! This is insane! But also, Phoebe, you’re scarily good at this.”

“I told your grandpa I could handle myself,” she shrugged, inadvertently frightening Morty.

Suddenly someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her backwards. She whipped around with her last knife in her palm but it was only Rick gripping her forearm. He also had a hold of Morty. He was pretty much dragging them to the portal.

“Come on, Morty! We got to get the hell out of here!”

_Well, at least he got me, _Phoebe thought brightly before being sucked through the portal.

XXX

Phoebe could tell by the puzzled expressions that they hadn’t ceased wearing since she fell out of the portal alongside Rick and Morty that Beth and Jerry were just confused as to why _she_ was there. They kept looking at her oddly as if _she _were the weirdest thing going on at the moment. They did it at the school, even when she faded into the background as Rick tried and failed to talk his way out of it, and they did it when they got home, and _oh gods did they really want to stick Rick in a home? _He was too independent for that! The man might be annoying as all hell at times, but he was also as intelligent and fiercely independent as he was annoying. Someone like that would hate being cooped up in a nursing home. It would be a cage. She let Rick try to find his own way out, first, and if he couldn’t she’d intervene. In the end, she didn’t have to. Somehow, like magic, everything settled, and before she knew it she was standing alone in the garage with him and Morty.

“Holy cow, Rick. I didn't know hanging out with you was making me smarter. If Phoebe keeps coming too I’ll be as smart as you two in no time!”

“Full disclosure, Morty it's not. And that’s not going to happen. Temporary superintelligence is just a side effect of the mega seeds dissolving in your rectal cavity.”

Phoebe felt faint alarm at that. What would the seeds do to him? Would they poison him? Would he get seriously ill or die?

Morty was obviously wondering the same. “Aw, man.”

In his usual fashion Rick explained with relish, “Yeah, and once those seeds wear off, you're gonna lose most of your motor skills, and you're also gonna lose a significant amount of brain functionality for 72 hours, Morty.”

“He’s going to what?!” Phoebe said dangerously.

Rick waved off her concerns a little too casually for having watched her kill two customs guards and fight off a giant spider-monster-alien thing a few hours ago. “Temporary side effects.” He pulled his sleeve back and checked one of his three watches. “Starting right about now.”

“Oh, man, I don't feel so good,” Morty groaned. He swayed, and Phoebe rushed to catch Morty to make sure he didn’t bang his on the cement floor.

“You’re a real bastard, you know that right?” Phoebe said, slipping a bunched up discarded lab coat under Morty’s head and turning him onto his side as he started seizing. 

“So I’ve been told,” Rick said. “If it’s any consolation, I'm sorry, Phoebe, and even though you can't hear it, I’m sorry Morty. It's a bummer. In reality, Morty is as dumb as they come and I needed those seeds real bad, and I had to give them up just to get his parents off my back, so now we're gonna have to go get more.” He started ranting, growing more and more energized, electrified, _rabid_.

At the end of his initial speech about _Rick and Morty forever_, he turned wild eyes on Phoebe. He seemed to have just remembered she was there. He bent down and grabbed her by her shoulders. “And you! We can’t do any of it without you, Phoebe! You’re coming on our adventures too! I didn’t plan for this to be a three-man show, Phoebe, but you changed my mind. I used to think you were just Jerry with tits, Phoebe, but you’re not, you’re amazing with weapons, you think on your feet faster than lightning strikes, you saved our asses twice, you didn’t hesitate with those guards—that’s-that’s talent, Phoebe, that’s natural inclination, that’s instinct that can’t be taught.” He shook her a little. “Morty’s so limited, but you have a mind just like me, you get it. We’ll be like the Three Musketeers, Phoebe! Not just Rick and Morty anymore, it’s Phoebe and Morty, Rick and Phoebe, Rick and Morty and Phoebe.”

He grinned down at her in a decidedly feral manner. “Together we’ll be unstoppable.”

Phoebe gazed at him with wide eyes wondering just what she had gotten herself into.


	7. Seven Thousand Sheks And A Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick ropes Phoebe and Morty into more illegal crap while also making money (are we surprised given he sells weapons to an assassin in canon?). Someone almost gets stabbed. Tw alcohol consumption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a really tame adventure compared to what they just went through but it’s still a very Rick thing to do.

_Day Twelve _

There was nothing quite like the experience of waking up to someone standing over you in the dark of your bedroom at half-past midnight. Phoebe glared up into the dark at the tall shape of Rick standing over her bed, mere inches away. The only thing stopping him from being closer was the tip of her sword, which was level with his lower abdomen. Her grip was firm, the sword length and balance crafted expressly for one handed use. “What do you want, Rick,” she sighed, sitting up slowly without lowering her weapon.

“What, are you gonna-are you gonna skewer me, Phoebe?”

She lifted the shoulder of the arm not holding the sword then let it drop in a one-sided shrug. “I didn’t know who it was, Rick. I had to be prepared.” At last she lowered her weapon and laid it on the sheets beside her. She patted the edge of the bed near her feet. “Sit. Tell me what crazy ass shit you have planned now. More smuggling? Maybe a heist? Starting a coup and overthrowing a government?” 

Rick grinned darkly. “Enthusiasm is a good thing, Phoebe. All in good time.”

He sat down facing her, and it made her a little uneasy to have him that close. Her fingers brushed idly over her sword as if to offer comfort, to remind herself it was still there. “So, Rick, what’s up?”

He leaned forward, peering intently at her. “The three of us, you, me, Morty, in space. I need to-to—” _belch _“—deliver something, Phoebe. It’s worth a lot of money, Phoebe, space money, and I need to deliver it tonight, Phoebe.”

“Alright,” she said, picking up her sword with the sharp end carefully pointed away from Rick’s chest. She pushed the covers back from her body. She was wearing a baggy Slytherin House T-shirt and pajama bottoms covered in skipping Pikachus and Eevees. “I need to get dressed. If you could get up and turn around that would be great.”

Rick rolled his eyes but complied, standing by the door with his back to her. “Still don’t trust me?”

“Hell no, at least not fully,” Phoebe said as she threw her legs over the bed and pushed off of it. She gently laid the sword down and went to her bureau, rummaging around until she came up with a pair of black leggings. She stepped out of her pajama bottoms and shimmied into the leggings, then traded her Slytherin shirt for a tank top. To her surprise, Rick had actually replaced her weapons, if not her outfit, the day after their outing in Dimension 35-C that ended in their hasty escape from customs enforcement. She walked over to her closet and pulled the doors open, coming up with a long-sleeved, ankle-length black dress with ruffles and pleats. Pockets were discreetly distributed amongst the folds of fabric, and two slits for unconcealed pockets were on either side at the hips. She pulled the dress over her head, added a medium length cloak in a muted red, and walked over to her table, opening a drawer to weapons galore. “You can look now,” she said, glancing at Rick.

He turned in time to watch her slip knives and senbon into all the hidden places. “Everyone thinks I’m into vintage or eccentric fashion,” she explained, sliding in a knife. “And I am. But feminine clothes like that are also convenient, and because they’re feminine people underestimate them and the wearer. I’m really, really into weapons, and usually it’s fine to carry them if you don’t take them out and start killing people in the middle of a government building or something.” She straightened up and turned slowly to see how naturally the skirt hung. “When I was eight, my mom and I saw this guy at the fair throwing knives, and I wanted to learn. She wanted to wait until I was ten because she was afraid I’d slice my fingers off, but when I picked up fencing at school she caved.” She looked up at Rick, who had an unreadable expression on his face. “How do I look?”

Rick stared at her. “Deadly,” he finally said.

“Thanks.” She shook her head and then returned her sword to its sheath, which also held a second pocket for her longer sword, strapping them onto herself. The cloak concealed them nicely. She looked back at Rick, who had the strangest expression on his face.

“Now are you ready, Phoebe?” He said, though clearly he’d almost said something else.

“I just need shoes,” she said. “Go wake up Morty. I’ll be out in a second.”

He opened her door and stepped out soundlessly, giving the impression that he snuck around to wake up Morty quite a bit. As she tugged on her boots, she sheathed a dagger in each. She stepped into the hall, closing her room door softly. She saw that Morty’s door was already open. She tiptoed toward it and glanced inside. Rick was just dragging Morty to the door.

“Your aunt’s ready, let’s go Morty.”

Morty looked up at her and his eyes widened. “W-wow, I mean, geez, Phoebe, you look really pretty but you’re dressed funny.”

Phoebe smiled thinly at him. “Weapons,” she said.

“Oh,” Morty said, glancing between her and Rick. “You two should have been friends a long time ago.”

“The near-death experience obviously helped bring us all closer,” she quipped. “Now come on, let’s go do this.”

The unlikely trio crept downstairs as quietly as possible, then it was through the kitchen and through the door. Phoebe wished she could have been able to appreciate being in Rick’s workroom. As it was she didn’t have time to look around at the current projects and tools on his work surface or at the shelves of his inventions for more than a few seconds. They stopped in front of an odd vehicle that could have been the UFO out of any sci-fi novel or film ever, except it was all hodgepodge and definitely handmade. “Nice,” she said. She noticed that there were exactly three seats. One looked...different. It took her a moment to realize it was because the third seat looked cleaner and less worn than the two in front of it.

“Hey, Rick, you added a seat!” Morty exclaimed.

Phoebe shot a look at Rick, who was looking at Morty with a scowl.

“Of—” _belch “_—of course I did, Morty. Had to have one for Phoebe.”

Phoebe nudged him gently with her elbow. “Aw, Rick, you didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Rick sneered. “I did it for me so I didn’t have to hear you complain.”

Phoebe snorted. “Sure, Rick.”

She reached out, opened the door and climbed in, settling in the back. Morty sat shotgun, and Rick took the wheel. As the garage door opened, Morty said “So where are we going, Rick?”

“Yeah, Rick, we know the why but not the where,” Phoebe said, stretching her legs out.

“Doolan 7,” Rick said, messing with the controls. They were soon in the air, the garage door closing and the garage quickly fading into the distance behind them.

“You never said what you have to deliver, Rick.”

“We’re picking up a shipment of black market goods and dropping them off on another planet, then we’re going to hit up my favorite bar.” Huh, she didn’t actually expect him to be honest with her. Maybe she was just used to him not being transparent with Morty (at least over the small span of time she’d seen them interact).

“You’re trying to turn me into a criminal,” she accused.

“Nah—” _belch _“—you’re already a criminal, remember?” He glanced at her reflection.

Phoebe scowled. “Don’t remind me. It’s all your fault. You and your damn seeds.” That night as she’d lain in bed she mulled over the events of the day and every word of Rick’s speech, considering their “adventure”. Once the shock had worn off and she had time to think things over, she felt she knew for a fact that Rick had set up everything that happened—barring little hiccups like Morty falling off a cliff or all of them almost getting eaten or her following them— so he could have free reign with Morty. She really hadn’t been a part of the picture, but now he wanted to use her skills, which was fine because she was using him too. How else could she travel through space and dimensions? It was the opportunity of a lifetime, any scientist or sci-fi nerd’s wet dream. It was like Dr. Who, if Dr. Who were abrasive, fond of vodka, and had a questionable sense of ethics. The space cruiser didn’t exactly resemble a TARDIS, but it would do. Why not be useful if it meant _he_ would also be useful for _her_? It was mutually beneficial, as far as she could tell. She shook her head minutely. Gods was she such a Slytherin. Sometimes she just forgot how ruthless she could be.

“Yeah, well, I never asked you to—” _belch _“—come along, did I?”

She glared at the back of his head, her eyes metaphorically boring holes into the bald patch. “Not until afterward,” she retorted.

“Well do you want to go back, Phoebe? Do you—do you not want to come with us just because we had to kill a few bureaucrats?”

“I want to come with you, Rick,” she snapped. “I’d be lying if I said otherwise. What you can do, the places you have access to...yes, I want to be here. Does hearing that make you happier, Rick?”

“Not really.” One-handed, he pulled a flask out of his lab coat and took a swig. He’d already basically told her that he wanted her on standby in case they needed her again, but apparently he was still going to be an asshole about it. Phoebe rolled her eyes and sat back for the ride.

XXX

They descended through the atmosphere of Doolan 7 and landed in the middle of a forest clearing. Phoebe leaned forward, her head between Rick and Morty’s shoulders. “This doesn’t look like a pickup location, Rick.”

“That’s because it’s—” _belch_, “—not, Phoebe. The pickup location is a mile or so away.”

“Looks like you’re getting some exercise, Morty,” she said.

“Do you think it’s safe?” He peered out into the dark. “I mean, oh man, l-last time we went somewhere we were almost eaten.”

“Y-y-you’re really hung up on that, Morty. It wasn’t that bad, Morty.”

“Don’t worry, Morty, if something tries to eat us here I’ll just stab it.” She reached out and patted his shoulder in reassurance.

“See Morty? Now quit whining. Phoebe, can you pass forward those bags in the back?” She looked and saw that there were three extra-large burlap sacks. She grabbed them and passed two to the front. Rick and Morty opened the doors and got out, and Phoebe, suspicious that Rick would just close his door in her face, slid out after Morty. Rick started walking toward the far end of the clearing, Phoebe keeping stride with him while Morty was a few steps behind. Once they reached the tree line they set off single file. The trees looked somewhat like blue pines. 

At their pace it took them half an hour to reach their apparent destination. The trees thinned out then abruptly ended, transitioning into tall, thin plants. Rick stepped forward, grasped the stem, and deftly plucked off the flower head. “Start filling the bags, Phoebe and Morty, and be quick. We don’t want to get caught doing this.”

“Let me guess, more prison?”

“Yep, except at this one they cavity search you with their tentacles.”

Phoebe shuddered. She didn’t want to personally test whether he was lying about it.

She and Morty branched out and began filling their own bags. “So what’s the deal with _these_ plants?” Phoebe asked, picking as quickly as she could.

“They’re—” _belch _“—multipurpose. Depending on your species they’re poisonous, cure erectile dysfunction, or make you trip balls.”

“I didn’t really expect the rest of the universe to outlaw recreational drug use—or space Viagra,” Phoebe commented. She turned and plucked off of the neighboring two plants, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Rick switch plants too.

“They don’t. Our little excursion tonight is illegal because the substances in this plant that are toxic to other species have been used in a lot of assassinations, so their purchase is monitored, Phoebe. That and I’m pretty sure the owner of this farm would be upset we’re doing a little midnight harvesting.”

Phoebe’s hands faltered picking and she shot a disbelieving look at Rick. “We’re _stealing _from a farm to sell their crop as our own?” she hissed.

“Yep,” Rick said, continuing to pick.

“And we’re selling outside of regulations,” she continued, picking furiously from a fourth plant as if it had personally offended her.

“Yep,” Rick said. He glanced at Morty’s progress. “Try not to pick all in the same place, Morty. Do what Phoebe’s doing and spread it out a little so it’s less obvious—different plants, and different areas on them.” Phoebe had wanted to avoid stripping all the blossoms off of the plants because she didn’t want to disrupt the local ecosystem or affect pollination. Rick, apparently, just wanted to be able to come back and steal again.

“And knowing you we’re selling directly to an assassin,” Phoebe grumbled to herself as she moved to the next plant.

Rick didn’t respond. They worked in silence, moving amongst the plants until the bags were filled.

“Alright, let’s get moving,” Rick said.

They wordless set off back in the direction of Rick’s space cruiser, and thirty minutes later they emerged from the trees next to it. The bags were stored in the back next to Phoebe and then they were ascending into the night sky.

XXX

_Apparently aliens have parking decks too,_ Phoebe thought to herself as Rick smoothly pulled into a space.

“Our contact should be here soon. Morty, you stay in the car. Phoebe, I want you to come with me.”

Phoebe blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” Rick said as if it were obvious. “I know how good your aim is.” Ah.

“What about Morty?”

“Yeah, Rick, I wanna come with you,” Morty piped up.

“You’re not coming, Morty. It’s just a—” _belch _“—quick in and out, you’ll only hold us up.” He looked at Phoebe, very clearly letting Morty know there was no debate. “The car can protect Morty,” he dismissed the concern, “Now can you pass the merchandise? Rhograr will be expecting us.”

As soon as they stood outside, Rick holding two bags and Phoebe holding one, Rick raised his voice. “Ship, keep Morty safe.”

The ship repeated the command in a feminine robotic voice, blue light on the inside flashing against the windows. “Keep Morty safe.”

Rick led Phoebe away from the car and toward the door to the stairs, but instead of entering the stairwell they simply stood within a few feet of it.

“Don’t we need a place a bit more discrete?” Phoebe lifted an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, Phoebe, I do all of my business this way.”

Phoebe didn’t feel at all reassured by that response, but didn’t push it further.

“I assume your meeting time is prearranged?”

“Yeah, I made the call before I went into your room.” He looked sideways at her. “I can’t believe you sleep next to a sword, Phoebe, but I should have expected something like that from someone like you.”

“And what’s that mean?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You know exactly what it means.”

“Right…”

They didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes pass before a short, hairless, stubby-legged gray alien with a large bulbous head, long spindly arms, and a tail that ended in a third hand exited the stairwell. He was carrying a rather hefty bag that Phoebe assumed was money. _Cash only payments so they can’t be tracked. _

“Riiiick,” he called when he was about a foot away. “Good to see you.” His bulging eyes went to Phoebe, and his wide mouth split into a lecherous grin. “And who’s this?”

“A friend,” he said, not elaborating any more than that.

Rhograr guffawed. “I didn’t know you had friends.”

Rick smiled grimly. “Just show me the money, Rhograr. Let’s get this over with.”

“Alright, Rick, don’t be so impatient. Here are your seven thousand sheks.” Rhograr shoved the bag of cash at Phoebe, who handed him her sack full of blossoms in exchange. Rick handed him his two sacks, and the exchange was complete. Phoebe expected him to count the sheks, but either Rhograr had never cheated Rick before or knew he wouldn’t survive if he tried.

“Welp, nice doing business with you,” Rick said, already done with him.

“Same, Rick, take care you prickly bastard,” Rhograr replied, turning and waddling back toward the stairs. “And bring your friend more often!”

“Now for my favorite part,” Rick said as they turned to walk back to the car. “Drinks.”

“Oh, right, the bar.”

XXX

Rick coordinated another smooth landing next to a rectangular navy blue cruiser.

“Morty, stick close to one of us,” he said, turning to look at Morty. “Don’t, ah, don’t go to the bathroom alone, and if someone besides Phoebe says I told them to get you, don’t go with them.”

“I'm not five, Rick, I know about ‘Stranger Danger’,” Morty said defensively.

Phoebe slipped her hand into one of her pockets and withdrew a small knife. “Here, Morty, take this,” she held it out to him. “It doesn’t take much real skill. Just stick them with the pointy end and that should do it.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Rick said. “Morty’s too much of a pussy to use that.”

“I am not!” Morty objected.

Phoebe shook her head. “Even if that were true under normal circumstances, if he gets scared enough and thinks he’s going to die, he’ll use it.”

“You hope,” Rick added.

Phoebe rolled her eyes and withdrew another knife, holding it out to Rick. “You want one too, Rick?”

Rick looked amused. “I thought that was why we brought you along.”

“And if I can’t get to you fast enough?” She challenged.

“I’ll take my chances,” Rick shrugged. “Morty can keep his.”

“Fine.” She returned her knife to its hidden pocket.

The argument died and they were soon strolling through the parking lot. They passed by a few patrons, some returning to their own cruisers and some clearly going toward the bar. They reached the door just as a large, blue, humanoid alien with four arms opened it and went inside. Raucous laughter, swearing, clinking glasses and the low murmuring hum of conversation filtered out to them. Rick opened the door, not bothering to hold it open for Phoebe or Morty.

“Ass,” she muttered under her breath.

Once inside Phoebe observed that the bar’s patrons included a wide range of alien life: blob people, gear people, an alien who looked like they were hewn from rough stone, a fat orange one with small pointed ears and beefy arms, purple people with webbed hands and devices over what looked like gills on their necks, a few with feline features chatting to a few with serpentine ones, one that looked a bit like a toad, and one of the odd insect-like people that Rick had called a Gromflomite, were some of the ones she made note of as they walked across the room.

Rick made a beeline for an empty corner booth. Phoebe saw a potential problem arising before his thin legs touched the plush cushion padding the bench seat. _Who would she sit next to?_ She had two choices. She could sit next to Rick, which could be uncomfortable since they would be close together, and inconvenient because she couldn’t see him as he spoke. She could sit across from Rick and next to Morty, which would allow her to look at him while they talked, but depending on which direction Rick faced would turn her back on the room and keep her from seeing the door or any potential trouble. Then again, Rick himself might want to look out over the room to assess it for threats himself. Maybe she could just ask Rick to switch sides if it came down to it? But one look at him said otherwise. He would sit where he wanted. Damn.

When they got to the booth Rick took the side facing the rest of the bar and Phoebe bit her lip as she watched Morty slide in opposite him. _Well fuck_. She made a split second decision and slid in next to Rick on his side of the booth. Rick made a face. “Can’t you sit with Morty?”

“No. I need to be able to see the bar.” She rubbed along one of the pockets concealing weapons. The movement drew his eyes downward.

“Fine,” he huffed. He grabbed a menu off of the stand started reading.

He made no move to share, so Phoebe looked over his shoulder. “What the hell language is that?” She asked by his ear, staring down at the odd symbols that had to be writing.

“Findaloo,” Rick said, not even looking at her. “That’s the local language.”

“I didn’t know you spoke other languages, Rick,” she said.

“I didn’t either,” Morty commented.

Rick looked at them as if they’d said something idiotic. “I speak six earth languages and ten others. It’s just that use of universal translators mean I don’t have to use them very often.”

“Which ones?” She felt genuine curiosity. She loved learning and hearing about other languages. She took both Spanish and French in school and she’d even gone so far as to learn a fantasy language. It was Elvish, which she had taught herself by the time she was eleven because she loved Tolkien. Her best friend from elementary school was Heba, the daughter of Lebanese parents, so she picked up Arabic that way. Mandarin and Cantonese she had learned from her grandmother's side of the family.

Rick glared then smirked. She was sure as much as he wanted to tell her to mind her own business he always probably wanted to show off. He liked showing off and being right and proving his point. _A lot_. “Well, we’re obviously speaking in English, Phoebe. Then there’s Spanish, from my Colombian grandfather, and Dutch from my grandmother.” He went back to reading the menu.

“This might be news to you, but you’re not the only one who can count. That’s only three, Rick. What are the others?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Phoebe.”

“Um, I’d like to know, too,” Morty said.

“No one really cares what you want, Morty,” Rick sneered.

“Uh. _Culo_,” Phoebe grumbled.

Rick’s silvery eyes strayed from the menu again to her face. “Basta! No es la hora.”

Phoebe nudged him. “Dímelo.”

He nudged her back. “No.” He scanned the menu a third time, switching back to English when he spoke. “What kind of things do you like, Phoebe?”

That was pretty considerate of him, considering she couldn’t read the menu. She leaned back into the booth, considering. “I like vodka, spiced rum, and whiskey, but I doubt they carry that.”

Rick’s fingers drummed on the table. “I’ll just get you what I normally order.”

“What about Morty?” She gestured at the boy, who was playing with a condiment bottle on the table. “Do they sell soda?”

“H-hey!”

“You’re too young to be drinking,” Phoebe told the teen.

“I started drinking when I was twelve, he’ll be fine,” Rick dismissed. “Anyway, they don’t have underage drinking laws here so he’s getting what we get.” Rick closed the menu.

Phoebe blinked. “Are...are Beth and Jerry okay with Morty drinking?”

Rick scoffed. “Beth and Jerry aren’t here to object.”

“Thanks, Rick,” Morty said.

Rick lifted up and slid over Phoebe’s legs, the undersides of his thighs briefly touching her.

“Uh, Rick, really? You could have just asked me to move!” Phoebe protested, turning her head so her face wouldn’t be pressed into his back as he passed over her, though there wasn’t enough room to keep him from sliding against her front.

“That would have taken too long,” he retorted. Once free he strolled to the bar, leaning over to speak to the bartender, a pretty pink humanoid with blonde hair and antlers.

“He’s such an ass,” she muttered to no one in particular.

“Yeah, that’s just Rick,” Morty replied.

Phoebe grumbled in Cantonese about mad scientists with attitude problems.

Rick came back with what looked like three over-sized pints, glasses that visually appeared to be huge beer steins, though Phoebe highly doubted they contained beer. Based on her and Rick’s choice of alcohol it would undoubtedly have a much higher proof. He set one down in front of Morty. “Drink slow, Morty. Don’t gulp it like it’s Kool Aid and, you’ll get a head rush like a dumbass.”

“He’s right,” Phoebe confirmed, accepting one of the remaining two “pints” and taking a cautious sip. It was biting and bitter, but also sweet and spicy. It fizzed on her tongue even though it wasn’t carbonated, and when it went down it left a warm, tingling feeling in her throat. “Mm,” she hummed, licking her lips, eyes half closed. “This is good.” She looked up and found Rick staring at her face far more intently than she expected. “Thanks.”

Instead of commenting he just grunted, “Move over.” Phoebe scooted further in and Rick plopped down beside her. Rick took a sip of the drink. “We got wings coming, you two.”

“Wings? Oh, cool, Rick, a real bar experience!” Morty commented as he also took a sip of drink. Unlike Rick and Phoebe, it didn’t go down smoothly. A moment later he coughed and spluttered, pushing his flagon away. “Too strong,” he choked.

“No, Morty, you’re just—you’re just a wimp,” Rick retorted, taking a second drink.

“He’s just not as experienced as us,” Phoebe defended him. “Try smaller sips, Morty, and don’t drink too much before the food comes. You’ll get too wasted too fast and drop like a fucking stone.”

“Like a fucking stone, got it.” Morty nodded determinedly and tried another, smaller sip. He didn’t cough nearly as much, and smiled.

Phoebe gestured to Morty with her stein. “Just stick with me kid, I won’t steer you wrong.” The wings, blue-skinned with purple spots, arrived just then. They were larger than chicken or duck wings but smaller than turkey wings. She waited until Rick and Morty both bit into one, then Phoebe grabbed one, sniffed it, and took a cautious bite. The taste reminded her of chicken but had a strange tang to it that definitely had nothing to do with that particular bird.

“Decent,” Morty declared, and she had to agree.

A pile of bones accumulated as the three of them worked through the mound. They were halfway through when a seven-foot fall lizard man stormed up to their table and spat out Rick’s name like a curse. The brute slapped his hand—huge, meaty, three-fingered, opposable, the size of a large ping-pong paddle—on the table, leaning menacingly over Rick. Rick’s hand moved inside his lab coat to grasp around one of the devices, but before he could fully draw it out someone else acted first. Seemingly out of nowhere the tip of a wickedly curved dagger stabbed into the table between two meaty fingers. Morty cringed into the booth seat, whimpering “Rick! Phoebe!”

“Back the _fuck_ away or next time that’ll be your hand,” Phoebe snarled, and suddenly she was leaning over Rick, her furious face upturned and glaring at the alien crowding over the tall scientist.

Rick whistled. “I’d—” _belch _“—listen to her if I were you, dickweed.” He finished withdrawing whatever he had his hand on, and Phoebe belatedly realized it was the freeze-gun. “Now just leave, quietly. Whatever I did to you, however I hurt you, I don’t care and I’m not sorry.”

The lizard man hissed angrily. “You slept with my wife then stole my building plans and sold them to my competitors!”

“Yeah, that sounds like something I’d do,” Rick remarked. “Still don’t care.”

The lizard man drew back as if to punch Rick in the face. Rick touched the freeze-gun to his arm, freezing him instantly. 

“Should we—should we go?” Morty lowered his hands from his face, where’d they’d previously flown up to cover his eyes.

Rick took a long drink before he answered. “Finish your drink, Morty.”

“I’m not sure I can, Rick.”

“Then give it here.” He snatched the concoction and took it for himself.

“Do you need help finishing that, Rick?” Phoebe knew Rick drank all the time, but she didn’t know how much he drank in one sitting.

“The day I need help finishing a drink you just—you just put me out of my misery,” he snapped.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want you to be too fucked up to drive.”

Rick laughed. “Phee, I’ve been much more fucked up than this and made it back in one piece.”

“It’s true.” Morty’s response didn’t exactly make her feel better.

Phoebe scowled. “That doesn’t mean you should make this a habit! You could kill us all!”

“I know what I’m doing.” As if to prove his point he downed the remainder of Morty’s drink as if it were a single shot.

“Ugh,” Phoebe groaned in exasperation. She pulled her dagger out of the table and laid it flat within reach. With the food in her stomach cushioning her system she drank a little more freely. They all ate a little quicker and she and Rick finished their drinks. The more Rick drank the closer Phoebe watched him, but Rick didn’t seem any different, no slower or duller, so she had marginally relaxed by the time Rick took out a few notes and laid them on the table.

“Rick,” Phoebe said, leaning down to re-sheath the dagger. “Are we unfreezing this jerkoff before we go or are we leaving him like this?”

“Leaving him,” Rick announced. “Morty, let’s go.”

Morty squirmed. “Um, Rick, I kind of need to go to the bathroom.”

Rick scowled. “Well make it quick, Morty.”

Morty scrambled out of the booth and made a frantic beeline for the bathroom. Apparently Rick had forgotten his previous, conflicting instruction to not going to the bathroom alone.

Phoebe took the time to nudge Rick gently with her elbow. When he turned and looked down his long nose at her, she said, “Thanks for bringing me with you, even if you’re slowly corrupting me.” She meant it as a joke, but part of her felt like it was true. Some of Rick’s endeavors were quite obviously and decidedly illegal, judging by the lizard man he’d fucked over or the farm whose crops he skimmed off of to make a profit.

He shrugged. “It’s-” _belch _“—what I do best, Phee.”

She couldn’t argue with that.


	8. (Done) In the Name of Morty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick almost kills them for an A in Math. Phoebe has tamer ideas for raising Morty’s grades.

Day_ Eighteen/Week Two_

It became usual for Rick to slip in, wake her up without being gored or disemboweled, and drag her out of bed for some experiment/adventure or another. Sometimes he woke Morty first, and sometimes he woke her first. He knew well enough to leave Morty in the hall if he woke him first. The last thing they needed was Morty pissing himself when Phoebe inevitable woke up with a blade in her hands aimed toward a stomach, neck, or crotch. Daytime adventures were another matter entirely. Rick was still a little reluctant to let her into the garage by herself, and it was a bit awkward (for her at least) to be pulled into his bedroom. Eventually he settled on grudgingly giving her his phone number.

There was nothing like receiving a grumpy-ass or downright rude text from Rick or a vaguely anxious one from Morty as she exited the science labs or a seminar. All of Rick’s were about when and where to meet. All of Morty’s were about how _could she please come quick because Rick was being crazy again_.

XXX

When Phoebe found out that Rick and Morty were obsessed with his grades, she decided to start working on a simple pair of glasses and a discrete inner-ear device that he could wear during tests. _It wasn’t like he and Rick cared about academic integrity anyway. _Any time he was taking a test, his glasses would scan the document and send the information to an AI version of herself or search the web for it. The inner-ear device would then relay the information back to Morty in soothing, encouraging tones. Her project wasn’t difficult for her, but it _was_ time-consuming, and she had to get every little detail right. What she didn’t know was that Rick was working on a similarly themed, though differently executed, project of his own. If only they’d collaborated.

XXX

Her phone dinged and Phoebe checked the notification. She had a new message from Biggus Dickus, which was what she had down as Rick’s contact name in her phone. It made her laugh each and every time, her own personal joke to herself about Rick being a “big bag of dicks.”

**Biggus Dickus: Phee. Downstairs. Now. **

Despite his long-winded in-person rants, Rick wasn’t one to waste characters in a message, nor was he ever polite. She blinked and sent him her typical reply.

**Phoebe: ?**

He responded almost instantly, and she could almost hear the annoyance conveyed in the text.

**Biggus Dickus: Because school is stupid**.

Rick must have come up with some harebrained scheme that involved Morty and school. He’d had multiple arguments with Jerry about the value of education as an institution and about his propensity to take Morty out of school. Phoebe stayed out of it. She didn’t want Rick to decide not to include her and she didn’t want her brother to decide he didn’t want her in the house anymore. It also drove her nuts that they never considered a third option. _Why didn’t they just pull Morty out of public school and let Rick homeschool him? It would save a lot of headache and time spent arguing about attendance and homework. _Phoebe decided not to poke a sleeping dragon in the eye and let it be.

**Phoebe: Coming **

She didn’t expect a reply. Once he knew she was on the way he usually didn’t see fit to message her again. She locked her phone and put away the textbook on coding languages, resigning herself to whatever the next crazy situation threw at them. Rick didn’t say he was in a hurry, so she gave herself the same preparation she had for the past several nights, then made her way downstairs. She and Rick entered the hallway at the same moment.

“So what are we up to,” Phoebe whispered in Mandarin. She’d found out the embarrassing way that he understood her when he delightedly responded with malicious glee to her cursing at him. Apparently he learned so he could follow published scientific and tech advances written up in Mandarin. That and he traveled_ a lot _those missing fourteen years.

“Getting Morty good grades in math,” he responded, also in Mandarin, before walking into the room. She sighed in frustration, cursing Rick’s abruptness and tight-lipped attitude, then stepped into the room behind him and leaned against the wall. She crossed one ankle over the other. Jerry and Summer were here. Summer was lounging on the couch texting, and Jerry was in the recliner facing Morty. Snuffles was at his feet by a suspicious dark stain on the rug.

“Morty, come on. I need your help tonight,” Rick intoned impatiently. He grabbed Morty by the arm and started dragging him toward Phoebe.

Jerry stood from his seat and walked over to the spot Rick reached with Morty. “Hey, wait, hold on a second, Rick. You wouldn't by any chance have some sort of crazy science thing you could whip up that might help make this dog a little smarter, would you?”

Rick’s eyebrows came down low over his eyes and he sneered, “I thought the whole point of having a dog was to feel superior, Jerry. If I were you, I wouldn't pull that thread. Come on, Morty.”

Rick’s sardonic response had the opposite effect of shutting Jerry up. Instead it added fuel to the fire and quickly changed his request to a hill he was willing to die on. He and Rick both started tugging on Morty’s arms, tipping him back and forth between them. “Listen, Rick, if you're gonna stay here rent-free and use my son for your stupid science, the least you could do is put a little bit of it to use for the family—”

Phoebe shook her head, uncrossing her legs and stepping forward. “No, he’s right, that’s really not a good idea. You do _not _want to do this.”

Jerry ignored her in favor of continuing his argument with Rick. “You make that dog smart or Morty's grounded!”

Summer immediately poked fun at Morty’s predicament. “Ha-ha!” Poor Morty, caught up in Jerry’s one-sided dick measuring contest.

Morty sulked. “Aw, man!”

Rick wouldn’t care about Morty being grounded if he didn’t need to drag him along, and even Jerry knew it. Rick might be a genius, but at least where Morty was concerned he was predictable. “Boy, you really got me up against a wall this time, Jerry,” he drawled sarcastically. He whipped around and marched towards her, his face twisted up in annoyance at Jerry. As he passed her he said casually, “Be right back Pheebs.”

It wasn’t until he was already through the door and in the kitchen that Phoebe noticed the silence in the room. She turned around to find Jerry and Summer staring at her. 

“_Pheebs_?” Jerry wheezed weakly.

“Oh my god Aunt Phoebe,” Summer said, “Are you and Grandpa Rick, like, _friends_?”

“Um,” Phoebe said, hedging, although her mind leapt to the other night when he’d called her “a friend”. Then again, he’d said that to the strange alien he sold his stolen space herbs to. Friend, accomplice, same difference. “That is...I think. Sort of. Maybe?” She scratched her head sheepishly. She knew she would probably consider Rick a friend before he considered her one, and while she was tempted to consider Rick a friend.... “We probably will be soon. Possibly.”

“Oh my god,” Summer said after a moment. “You _are_.”

“Not yet!” Phoebe protested. “More like...friendly acquaintances.”

“So you’re friends,” Summer said. “This is _Grandpa Rick_ we’re talking about. He hates _everyone_. If he doesn’t hate you, you’re basically friends until proven otherwise.”

“Phoebe...” Jerry said slowly. “When did all this happen?”

Phoebe blinked. Why did Jerry sound like that? It’s not like they’d run off and killed the president or destroyed a whole planet or something. She didn’t know when Rick would get past tolerating her to actually accepting her as a friend, but at least she—maybe, _who even knew how his mind worked?_ —had his respect. She figured she probably shouldn’t tell him about the almost getting murdered by a monster and eaten, or about her and Morty stabbing and shooting the custom guards, or about the seeds that ended up dissolving in Morty’s rectum. Especially the last part, because of the whole ‘Rick’s plan to manipulate Jerry and Beth into backing off’ bit. Jerry might, well, freak the fuck out. “We sort of...maybe went on a science thing.” She left out the part about her following him through a portal and stumbling into the adventure by accident. She didn’t mention Morty being there at all. She wouldn’t have mentioned the whole ‘stealing space herbs and then going out for drinks’ thing, either.

“You _what!” _he exclaimed just as Rick came back into the room holding a small, odd-looking helmet. Rick skirted around Jerry and Morty and stooped down, reaching toward Snuffles. Jerry whipped around to look at Rick. “Are you dragging my whole family into your insanity?”

“Don’t know what you mean,” Rick drawled.

“Phoebe!” Jerry yelled. “I’m talking about Phoebe!”

Rick’s voice, when he spoke, was low and unnervingly calm, as if Jerry were a toddler he was trying to reason with while it had a tantrum. “Do you want me to make the damn dog smarter or not?”

Jerry made a frustrated noise, and Rick proceeded to follow through with what he was doing.

“All right, Ruffles ...What's his name?”

“Snuffles,” Morty corrected.

Rick went through a series of commands with Snuffles (_sit, shake, roll over_), who followed them each to a ‘T’, even going so far as to use the toilet when commanded to use the bathroom.

Jerry yelped excitedly, _“Holy crap!” _

_“No way,” _Summer breathed in awe.

“Yeah, you're at the top of your game now, Jerry,” Rick snarked. “Have fun. Come on, Morty, Phoebe.”

Hearing Phoebe’s name seemed to remind Jerry of his outrage. “You’re going with them?” Jerry sounded both wounded and horrified. She glanced at him and found both emotions written on his face. Apparently part of him was hoping the adventure she had with Rick was a one-off. He turned to Rick, suddenly furious. He jabbed a finger in Rick’s direction for emphasis. “My sister is not going along with your crazy mad science crap!”

What? Now it was Phoebe’s turn to be furious. “Jerry,” she bit out, her tone making Morty jump. “You’re my brother and I love you, but if you _ever _try to tell me what to do again, _me_, your grown-ass sister, I swear to Kali I will put your balls in a vice, and not in the fun way.”

Rick looked like the cat that got the canary. He was positively gloating.

“Oh damn,” Summer said.

Jerry spluttered. “I...well...I...that is…” Rick used the opportunity to whisk away with Morty. Phoebe sent Jerry an irritated look and followed Rick.

XXX

The weirdest part of the whole dream-incepting thing had to be incepting into the dream of Mr. Goldenfold’s dream-version of Mrs. Pancakes. _They were in a sex dungeon of all places! An S&M sex dungeon._ Phoebe was too focused on something else to notice at first, though. “I can’t believe you almost got us killed again! In a _dream_ of all places,” she grumbled. Then she looked around and saw where they were. “And now we’re _here._”

“I don’t see a problem with here,” Rick said, his silvery eyes lighting up, _shining_, as he looked around. _Apollo’s left testicle. _

Morty disagreed. “Oh, man, Rick, this is pretty weird.”

“Don't judge, Morty,” Rick said.

“Okay. All right, well look,” he said, pointing. “Mrs. Pancakes is right over there. I'll just go ask her to tell Goldenfold not to kill us when she wakes up.”

Rick instantly objected. “Whoa, whoa, Morty, the trick to incepting is making people think they came up with the idea. Listen to me. If we're gonna incept Mrs. Pancakes, we have to blend. I'll talk to you after lunch.”

_Blend? Blend??_ Phoebe opened her mouth to protest but Rick had already gone, running off with a few of the dungeon’s denizens. Morty and Phoebe look at each other. “I’m gonna be so traumatized after this,” Morty told her.

“Me too,” Phoebe said, “some of these creatures _definitely_ shouldn’t be having sex, especially where others can see it.” She cringed. Some of the weird monster things were truly revolting.

Morty opened his mouth to respond to her but she was suddenly spun and ripped away from him. A tall orc-like creature began dragging her away from Morty. She yanked against his hold. “You have until three,” she said quietly. He seemed not to be paying any attention whatsoever, so she took it upon herself to reach for a knife, but the closest one she could reach was still too far away. _Shit. _She leaned back and went limp. The sort-of-orc, while not thrown off balance, still jerked back a little. Phoebe kicked up and out at his legs, aiming for his knee, and twisted her head to bite at his hand and wrist. He let her go with a howl of pain, and she took the opportunity to kick him again while she pulled out a knife. Then she got to her feet and ran. She retraced her steps but Morty wasn’t where he was when she got grabbed. She kept running through the writhing, grotesque bodies, dodging hands, ignoring call. She stumbled around blindly searching for any sign of either Rick or Morty. 

A few minutes later and she had almost given up on finding them when suddenly she heard Rick and Morty’s panicked voices rise into a series of shouts, both of them saying the same words at the same time. “Oh, my God. Put some clothes on for the love of God Summer! Put some - I'm gonna puke! I swear to God I'm gonna puke! Oh, my God! Put some clothes on, for Pete's sake! This is disgusting! I can't take it.”

Even without the shouting aiding in her pinpointing their location, all of the monsters turning in a single direction sent her on a straight path directly to them. She ran into the circle created by the murmuring crowd in time to see a centaur leap out threateningly...and to see Rick in a sex suite. With nipple clamps. And a pet chain. Her eyes widened. She didn’t think she’d ever see Rick not wearing a sweater, khakis, and a lab coat, let alone in something so revealing. “Sexual hang-ups in the pleasure chamber are punishable by death,” the centaur screamed, “Off with their heads!”

“Fuck me sideways.” She knew what was coming. She edged closer to Rick and Morty. She knew they’d have to flee to escape yet another dream death.

“Time to go another dream deep, Morty!” Rick called, proving her right barely a minute later. He hopped up and put the centaur in a chokehold, surprising Phoebe with how quickly and how well he moved. Then again, maybe regularly running from enemies or monsters trying to murder him must help him stay active. Then the device was in her ear again and they were sinking down, down, down…into the creepiest fucking place she’d ever seen, which only got worse when a monstrous man with swords for fingers started chasing them.

“Fuck you so much, Rick,” she hissed as they ran. “_Cào nǐ zǔ zōng shí bā dài!”_

XXX

Phoebe found herself crouching down by a hole in the wall with Rick and Morty nearby. By that point they’d been crouching down hiding for hours. Part of her mind had started rationalizing strangling Rick. Only a little bit though, not, like, _to death_, or anything. Then again, given what she just saw, he might _like_ it.

“Wow, you know what? I mean, it looks like we could have just hid this whole time,” Morty whispered, “Boy, Rick, that was some good thinking.”

Rick whispered back, “Thanks, Morty. Yeah, it's nice to be on the same page every once in a while.”

Phoebe snorted. “It was kind of our only option, although I did pick up a brick in case we had to bludgeon him to death. And obviously we could have all Julius Caesar-ed his ass and stabbed him as a group.”

Rick glowered. “I didn’t want to take our chances.”

“Aw, Rick, is that you caring,” she teased.

“Fuck you, Phoebe,” he said absently, staring out of the hole at Scary Terry.

From outside she could hear Scary Terry yell out, “You can run but you can't hide!”

Rick sat up straighter. “Oh, this is perfect. Look at that. Phoebe, Morty, _he yawned. _He's getting sleepy. Just a little bit longer before he calls it a day. That's when we make our move.”

Phoebe looked at him strangely then said sarcastically, “What, are we gonna wait ‘til he falls asleep, sneak into his house and bludgeon him to death in his bed?”

Rick rolled his eyes. “No, genius, we’re gonna incept into his dreams.”

Phoebe’s mouth opened in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Rick said.

This was probably about to go as well as everything else.

XXX

_Of course it fucking worked. Fuck you, Rick. _ Phoebe glared at the back of Rick and Morty’s chairs as they flew back to the house. All of this for a stupid math grade? That’s it. She was sharing her Morty projects with Rick before he killed them out of desperation trying to give Morty good grades. Morty’s exclamation of “What the hell?” made her head jerk up first, searching the skies, and then down, searching the ground.

“Shit a brick and fuck me with it,” Phoebe muttered. “Of course it happened, and of course we had to come home to it after nearly being killed four layers into a dream.”

“Out of the frying pan dot, dot, dot, huh, Morty?” Rick says, in a tone that suggested he had predicted the same thing Phoebe worried about coming to fruition. Damn him, why would he go ahead with the invention if he already knew the drawback? Then again, he probably already had plans A, B, and C on how to fix it, so she felt somewhat comforted.

“Oh, man, what's going on?” Morty sounded bewildered.

“Your father, my brother, is a báichī, a _puta pendejo_,” Phoebe said. “A fucking dumbass.”

In the mirror she saw Rick smirk briefly before it dropped. “Well,” he said a little _too_ innocently, if you asked Phoebe, “it's possible that your dog became self-aware and made modifications on the cognition amplifier, then turned on Jerry, Beth, and Summer after learning about humanity's cruel subjugation of his species, but your guess is as good as mine, Morty.”

Phoebe cradled her forehead in her palm. “Goddamnit, Jerry, you couldn’t just take the fucking dog to PetSmart or something and learn to clicker-train the damn thing? _Chingada madre_.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Rick sneered. “He took the easiest fix he could think of without wondering how it might blow up in his face.”

“How the hell are we going to fix this?” Phoebe wondered.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” Rick said confidently, taking the space cruiser into a descent that would keep them out of sight of the patrolling dogs. They landed as close to the house as they dared, then snuck back toward where Summer, Jerry, and Beth sat huddled morosely, collared and chained to a post. Rick leaned out of the bushes that he, Phoebe, and Morty were using for cover. “Psst, Beth, Jerry, Summer.” There were relieved cries, and Rick freed them all. Grateful words were exchanged, and then Summer hugged Morty, who pushed her away awkwardly. _What was that about? _“All right, let's get out of here. If we hurry, we can set up camp in a sewer tunnel or something before the dogs completely take over.” For some reason Rick had his flask in his hand.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jerry protested, “We're not going anywhere. This is my house. I'm not abandoning it.”

“The hell you’re not, _bèn dàn_,” Phoebe snapped. “This is all your damn fault anyway, _t__onto hermano de mío.”_

“She’s right. It's all over, Jerry. The dogs are on a path to total world domination.” Rick glared. “But, hey, at least they know not to piss on your carpet, right?”

“Wait a minute. I have an idea,” Jerry said, sounding far too excited than what their current predicament allowed. Phoebe could tell already that whatever he had planned would certainly _not_ help the situation.

“Jerry, stop! _Basta_! Whatever you’re thinking of you’ll just make it worse!” Phoebe hissed.

Jerry gave her an unhappy look, then said spitefully like a petulant child, “You can’t tell me what to do, Phoebe.”

He marched toward the house, and with every step Phoebe’s stomach dropped. “He’s going to get us all killed,” Phoebe muttered, following him. She didn’t get there in time. When the five of them arrived, Snuffles, who was sitting within the frame of a robotic body, was rubbing Jerry’s face in a puddle of urine. _He didn’t…_ He did. Phoebe facepalmed.

“Bad person. Bad,” a robotic voice was saying, and she realized it was coming from the robotic body cradling Snuffles. Maybe sometimes Rick’s inventions worked a little _too _well.

Rick sneered, “Ooh, great plan, Jerry.”

“I’m so embarrassed to be related to you right now,” Phoebe moaned into her hand.

“Ditto,” Summer muttered by her side.

“Bring the boy to me,” Snuffles said, the sterile robotic voice grating on Phoebe’s mind with the wrongness of it. It was a human voice, but it wasn’t. It was just a mimicry, but one that resembled a garbled human voice enough that it jangled her nerves. _Uncanny valley_, Phoebe thought, naming her unease and revulsion. They all stepped fully into the living room, and Snuffles sat down in the recliner, the long robotic legs folding. “You were always kind to me, Morty,” Snuffles continued once Morty was in front of him, “That's why I will leave you with your testicles. From now on, you will be my best friend and live by my side.”

“Th-thanks, snuffles,” Morty says, clearly terrified.

“Begin phase two,” Snuffles says.

XXX

Phoebe’s eyes flutter open. It took a moment for them to adjust to the darkness of the room, and when they did she spotted what woke her. Rick was just closing the door to the room where they were all being held. The dogs had given them a pile of blankets to lay on, and they’d gone asleep on them in the floor. Phoebe sits up, suddenly alert. “What did you do?” she whispers to Rick’s back, knees coming up to her chest with her chin resting on them.

Rick turned around slowly and looked down at her in the dark, his silvery eyes bright. She knew he could see her, or that if he couldn’t he would in a moment, and she knew with even more certainty that he heard her. He smirked smugly. “Saving all of your asses, being a hero to all of humanity, that sort of thing. You’re welcome.” He carefully made his way over to the spot next to her, which was the only place he could lay besides the spot next to Jerry. He sat down across from her with his back against the wall, mimicking her position. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “They’ll come for us soon and it’ll all be over.”

“Good,” Phoebe said, staring at him. What she wanted to tell him earlier came to mind and she decided that now was as good a time as any. “There’s something I want to tell you,” she said, and Rick’s eyes snapped open. Phoebe was reminded uncomfortably of an osprey bearing down on its prey. “I’m an inventor, too, and with how obsessed you and Morty are about his grades I started working on two projects of my own. I started making these glasses and discrete inner-ear communication devices…” She watched him, maintaining eye contact the entire time. The more she talked, the more she explained, the more she described what work she had done, the more Rick smiled. It was not a soft, gentle smile of happiness. It was a plotty Cheshire-cat grin, and Phoebe had a feeling she had just become more _useful_, if not more liked.

Rick startled her by reaching out and grabbing her wrist. “After the dogs are gone,” he said intently, eyes intense, “and they _will _be gone, because something tells me that Snuffles is going to have a change of heart because his conscience told him enslaving humanity is bad,” he leaned forward, “you’re going to show me.”

Footsteps in the hall, and then the doorknob was turning. Rick lunged forward to knock her over, taking them both down. He rolled away from her just before the door swung open and one of the canine guards stomped into the room. As her family stirred around them, a new robotic voice said, “Snowball has decided not to wage war on our aggressors.”

Phoebe sat up again, pretending she didn’t wake up a few minutes before the guard came in, not at all surprised to look over and see Rick, now several feet away, doing the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> báichī = it could be translated as dumbass, but the first meaning I was given was 'a total moron'. IMO that's what a dumbass is.
> 
> Cào nǐ zǔ zōng shí bā dài! = "fuck your ancestors to the 18th generation", or something like that/along those lines
> 
> Chingada madre = "motherfucker" or "son of a bitch", literally something like "fucked mother", chingada means "fuck/fucking/fucked"
> 
> bèn dàn and tonto = both of these words mean "silly, foolish", sort of the soft version of "idiot"; the former literally means 'dumb egg'.
> 
> basta = stop/enough


	9. Merry Rickmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phoebe thinks 'Pirates of the Pancreas' is clever. Rick's human experimentation is only one of many wildly unethical things he does.

_November/ Week Twelve/ Month Three_

After the incident with Scary Terry and Snuffles, and Phoebe’s subsequent sharing of her own Help-Morty’s-Grades project with Rick, he allowed Phoebe into the garage. She knew he didn’t let just anyone into his personal workroom, so she quietly celebrated that achievement. He barely tolerated his family being in the room, which made her feel more than a little smug. _Pack-bonding in the works? I should exploit that, _Phoebe thought. So she did. She was still pretty sure her contribution to ensuring he could drag Morty through space, reality, and time influenced most of the decision, but that didn’t matter. She showed him the schematics for her hovercraft and that apparently sold him the rest of the way and washed away any lingering reservations. She wanted him to know that she was intelligent, that she could be trusted.

They rebuilt the hovercraft together and stored it in the shed when they finished it—though not without modifications and upgrades to her old designs from both of them. Then she showed him her notes and schematics that she’d written out for her ideas about creating a usable device for time travel that could also be portable, and he’d shown her his box of “time travel stuff”. Rick wasn’t typically a sharer, she knew, but she also knew that he was probably starved of intelligent conversation. Who else could he discuss theories and inventions with if he didn’t hunt down another Rick? That wouldn’t happen because Rick’s hated other Ricks most of all (Extreme self-loathing, anyone? Hearing about the other Ricks and Mortys unsettled her, and she wondered about whether any of them had Phoebes of their own.)

She started working on her own inventions more, and while Rick wasn’t the sunshine-and-rainbows, cheerleading, self-help-book friend, he never held her back, either. If anything he sprinted ahead then tested her to see if she could keep up with him. With Rick at her side tinkering on his own projects, she worked on hers. Throughout the following weeks she made poisons, she made shoes that let allowed the wearer to fly, she made and completed patent paperwork for biofuels. (Those biofuels would bring in a nice profit, actually). So it came to be that beside Rick, Phoebe shined. Somehow they worked next to each other without killing each other, though when they first started working side by side they often worked in total silence and barely spoke to each other except to abruptly bounce an idea off of the other. Rick didn’t suddenly become loose-lipped after that, but he did become something as close to talkative as someone like Rick could be. The exception, of course, were his long-winded explanations. Rick did so love to flaunt his intelligence

Rick kept his word and took her to tag along with them more often than not, and quite a few times the two of them even went off without Morty, though that was mostly so they could hit up more bars on different planets. They both agreed Morty was a lightweight and he’d only slow them down. It took her about five trips to realize that she was turning into Rick’s drinking buddy. Whether because he actually liked her or because of proximity and convenience she couldn’t tell, but she refrained from questioning it. She felt like if she asked about it he’d stop taking her, might even stop letting her into the garage, and she actually felt like they were becoming friends—or at least that they could. It definitely felt like they were getting closer to a friendship.

She definitely _felt _like they’d grown a little closer over the period of time that they’d been drinking and inventing side-by-side. More than that, she figured that the only way someone could get closer to Rick would be through something like science and drinking together. She wouldn’t call them bosom buddies who would never be separated even in death, but considering that this was Rick—and as long as nothing terrible happened that made him remove her from that list of precious few people he didn’t hate—she figured she might end up as pretty much the closest to a human friend he had besides Morty, though that scared her a little. Morty and Rick’s relationship was...intense. If Rick had a friend on earth before the point that Phoebe moved in with the Smiths, then it was Morty. If she and Rick were actually going to be _real, wholeass friends…_well, fuck. She’d cross that bridge if they got there.

Currently she was helping him make a few weapons, one of which would electrocute people without requiring contact like tasers or stun guns, and another of which would expand the range of his freeze-gun. Staring down at the pieces on the table, something she’d been doing for the past five minutes, she said casually, “Did I tell you I started teaching myself how to code so we could hack into Morty’s school network?”

Rick paused in what he was doing, but only for a second. “No,” he said. Even though he wasn’t overly happy, she knew him well enough now to tell he was pleased.

“Well, I did,” Phoebe said, picking up her tools to start working again.

It was quiet for a bit, then Phoebe spoke again. “You know my father is coming with his wife to have dinner here?” Her voice was soft, closed off.

“Jerry might have mentioned it once or twice,” Rick sneered sarcastically. Jerry hadn’t shut up about it, in fact. His parents hadn’t come over to the Smith household in years, so their impending visit was a pretty big deal to him.

“Well,” Phoebe said, “I don’t want to see him.”

She didn’t look up but she could tell Rick had looked at her. “Jerry will be displeased,” he said, not sounding sorry about that at all. In fact, he sounded as if that was as good as receiving a bottle of Jack.

“I don’t hate him,” she said, abruptly feeling like she had to defend herself even though Rick hadn’t said anything to prompt defensiveness. Her hands lowered the tool and part she was holding on to the table. “I just...I’m not ready, Rick. You probably can’t relate to this, but he’s a stranger to me. And I’m not—It’s just, well, where the hell does he get off thinking he can come into my life and know me better now after all these years? What did he give me? Sure, he threw money at me, but what has he actually given me? Everything I’ve ever accomplished is my own, _my_ awards, _my_ degrees, _my_ inventions, _my_ intellect. _I _did that. It’s like he’s living in some fantasy world where he shows up with a check and a gift and has one dinner with me and suddenly everything is alright. I mean hell, I know more about _you_ in the short time we’re known each other than I’ve known about _him_ my whole life.”

Rick didn’t say anything at first, so she thought he wouldn’t at all. Then he said, “Is there a reason we’re discussing your emotional and abandonment issues with your father?”

Phoebe looked up and glared at him, surprised to actually find him looking back at her. He seemed bored, disinterested, and disengaged, and yet something in his eyes was observing everything keenly. “Yes,” she said. “I know you. You’ll avoid his parents like the plague. You’ll go somewhere else or do something to stay in this room and whatever it is I want in. You’re a right selfish bastard yourself so I figured you wouldn’t care if I wanted to help you for selfish reasons. I don’t want to see him, it’s just too weird for me right now. And I know _you_ don’t want to see them because you hate everything Jerry and those two _made_ him.”

Rick studied her. “You’re right, I don’t care,” he said. “You’re lucky you’re useful. You and my daughter who’s trapped in a tragic, pathetic marriage are the only ones in this family besides me who have half a brain and at least one somewhat helpful skill.”

“Gee, thanks, Rick,” Phoebe replied. “I feel oh so loved.”

“You’re also right that I hate Jerry and his stupid relatives,” Rick said. His eyes gleamed. “You’re not one of them. You’re the single evolutionary hope in their family tree. If you breed their descendants won’t be a total wash.”

“Wow, you really say the sweetest things,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I should get that printed on a T-shirt or something.”

She picked up her tool and her piece and started working. Twenty minutes passed in silence. She’d given up all hope of the conversation continuing in any productive way until Rick said, “It was a stupid, pointless request. You’re always welcome in here. Just don’t fuck up my stuff.” The fact that he trusted her in here alone made up for his callous delivery. The compliments wedged into his biting insensitivity didn’t escape her notice either.

“Thanks, Rick,” she said, smiling faintly at the gun she had just finished piecing together.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Rick said, “I’m a selfish bastard, remember? I did it so you wouldn’t complain and so you’d stop talking.”

“Right,” she said, not really believing that was the whole truth. It was a very good excuse for someone who never allowed themselves to be emotional or vulnerable enough to have many friends.

XXX

_December_, _Christmas Day_

Phoebe had finished a hat, an oven mitt, and a scarf during her time at the Smith house. Currently she was working on knitting a pair of thick socks, a French pop station playing softly in the background and a book held up in front of her. After studying one of Rick’s models, she’d built a robot to hold her book up and turn the pages so she could read and knit at the same time. Otherwise it would have been much harder to accomplish. The needles clicked, and Indila’s voice issued out in the otherwise quiet room:

_“Ô ma douce souffrance_

_Pourquoi s'acharner tu recommences_

_Je ne suis qu'un être sans importance_

_Sans lui je suis un peu paro'_

_Je déambule seule dans le métro_

_Une dernière danse_

_Pour oublier ma peine immense_

_Je veux m'enfuir que tout recommence_

_Oh ma douce souffrance_

_“Je remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit_

_Je danse avec le vent, la pluie_

_Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel_

_Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse_

_Et dans le bruit, je cours et j'ai peur_

_Est-ce mon tour ?_

_Revient la douleur_

_Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne_

_Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole….”_

“Didn’t know you liked French pop.” Rick’s voice startled her out of her trance, and she was embarrassed to realize she’d started singing along, likely in full view of him. She didn’t have an absolutely terrible voice, but she didn’t have a particularly _good_ one, either. She’d never sell any records or win any prizes or awards, that was for damn sure, but she’d also never have to feel inferior to nails on a chalkboard. Either way she sure as fuck didn’t want an audience. She looked up to see Rick standing in her doorway taking a swig from his metal flask. He had only managed to sneak up on her a total of three times since she’d arrived, a point of pride for her. She guessed now it was four times. She’d been so engrossed in everything she was doing that she didn’t notice him come in at all.

“Didn’t know you spoke French,” she shot back. “I guess I know five out of six now.”

“Wrong,” Rick drawled, “Guess again.”

They had an ongoing guessing game going as of the last week. She’d brought up what he said the first night that they all went to the bar because she never got her answer. Phoebe decided to bug him until she did. Rick was frustratingly tight-lipped about himself and about his past, even the small details. Assuming he wasn’t lying the entire time about which languages he spoke, she would guess a language and he’d tell her if she was right.

“Hmong? Hokkien? Twi? Tamil?”

“Not so fast, Phoebe. One a day.”

“Fine. The first one, then,” she compromised. At least she had a list for the week.

“Hmong? No, don’t speak a word of it.” He took another swig. “You still want to avoid your father and not-mother?”

She set her knitting down on the comforter. “Yeah,” she said. She’d thought about it and all she still wanted to do was hide. “I was actually about to text you about our plans for today.”

“Well, come on then,” Rick said. “I’m leaving right now.”

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “But I thought they weren’t coming for a few hours still?”

“We’ll be out until after they get here, and in the garage the rest of the time.”

“I...okay,” she said, standing up. “Do I need my usual adventure clothes or is casual dress fine?” She was wearing a T-shirt and shorts because the house was toasty and that outfit would have to be changed anyway. She knew, though, that he would realize she was asking if she needed weapons. Then again, she’d still have the daggers sheathed in her boots and she could braid her hair around a few senbon. One knife could fit into her pocket, and she and Rick could always take a few of the weapons from the garage. She really wanted to try out the dehydration gun, the one that made the body’s cells dehydrate, or maybe the one that raised someone’s body temperature dangerously high...

“Wear the usual just in case,” Rick said. He turned to go back downstairs, pausing first to add, “Come to the garage when you’re done.” He grabbed her door handle and shut the door behind him.

Phoebe sighed and marked her place in her book. She had the robot power down into sleep mode and put it in the corner. She changed quickly into her usual and pulled out a lambskin coat to slip her arms into, thankful that she had a thick pashmina to cover her neck and ears. She stuffed her knitting into her portable project bag, switched the radio off, glanced around one last time, then left her room, door closing behind her. As she made her way downstairs, Phoebe made note of where everyone else was in the house. They likely wouldn’t be gathered together yet because there were still hours until Joyce and Leonard arrived. Summer seemed to be in her room, if the flash of white pants against her bedspread meant anything. Phoebe heard the faint murmur of a TV show Morty liked to watch coming from the living room, and the exploding sounds of Jerry’s video games from his man cave. She really only had to worry about running into Beth. She peeked into the kitchen and found no one there, so she darted across the room and slipped into the garage.

Rick was already waiting inside the cruiser. Phoebe got in beside him, taking the passenger seat since Morty wasn’t coming. It was surprisingly warm inside. She guessed Rick had a heating system installed in the cruiser. She took her gloves off and pulled her knitting out of her bag, laying it in her lap. At the same time, Rick drove the cruiser out of the garage. “So where are we going?” Phoebe still had no idea what Rick had planned for the day.

“We’re going to collect an experiment of mine.”

The needles set into motion. “Oh? What kind?”

“His name is Ruben.”

Her hands paused, her knitting lying idle in her lap. “Unless Ruben is a dog it sounds suspiciously like this is a human being.” Rick didn’t contradict her. “You’re experimenting on a human?!” Phoebe screeched, horrified.

“Only with his consent,” Rick shrugged, pulling out his flask to take another hit.

“Oh, well, consent, that makes human experimentation completely alright!” Phoebe retorted sarcastically.

“Would you rather I—” _belch _“—experiment on someone _without_ their consent?” He slipped his flask back into his coat pocket.

“Well, no,” she admitted grudgingly. “So where is he?”

“Right here in Seattle. In fact…” He stuck his hand back in his lab coat and withdrew a small device dominated by a screen in the middle. A map displaying all of Seattle stretched across the display. A blinking dot caught her eye. “...like a responsible researcher I tagged my specimen before I released him into the wild.” He held the device out to Phoebe. “Here, take it. You’ll have to give me the directions. I can’t follow it and drive at the same time.”

Phoebe took the device reluctantly, staring down at the flashing blip as it moved. “You put a GPS tracker in him.” Her stomach twisted with discomfort. Part of her was disgusted he’d tagged a human being like a duck with a broken wing, and part of her relieved he had a way to keep track of the man to monitor his condition. Who knew what the experimentation meant for his health. This was certainly far more responsible—more ethical, even—than letting Ruben wander without any medical supervision or any way to find him again. Something else bothered her, though. If they had a way to track Ruben’s movements, why leave so early? Assuming the tracking device was an implant and not a bracelet, they could reliably follow the signal anywhere and grab him within an hour. She couldn’t help but voice her concern. “Then...why did we need to leave hours early, Rick?”

“Well, I hate Christmas and you have daddy issues. I thought we’d both be less mind-numbingly miserable if we got away from the house for a while.”

Phoebe glared at Rick. “You do know that I can stab you before you can draw to defend yourself? I’m faster than you.”

Rick smirked. “You could, Phoebe, but you won’t.”

“Keep pushing and I might be tempted,” she muttered.

XXX

They visited a cafe this time instead of a bar, though still one in space, and grabbed lunch. She assumed he went through the hassle of going to space for two reasons. One, being that many places might be closed for the day, and another being to avoid the annoying, ever-present, continuously playing Christmas music and tacky, overdone decorations afflicting every public place in Seattle (and most places in North America, if she were honest) that remained open. It was almost strange to go through Christmas Day without seeing or hearing something that beat one over the head with Christmas-ness. Phoebe marveled at it. Perhaps the music and decoration overkill was a solely American phenomenon, yet another one of their obnoxious traditions. Then again, for all she knew other countries were just as obnoxious with it, without any regard for the fact that only one religion celebrated Christmas as a central holiday. They spent some time in a bookstore, with Rick boredly leaning against a shelf, and then, after Phoebe bought a book containing information about alien plants, they were heading back to snag Ruben. 

Ruben was old and dirty and smelled like he hadn’t bathed in months. His red Santa outfit had clearly seen better days. Phoebe begged Rick to go get some plastic wrap to cover the seats with before he got into the cruiser. It turned out she never had to beg. Rick agreed. They returned with plastic wrap for the seats, and she moved to sit in the back. She tried not to breathe much as they made their way back to the house. 

Rick parked the cruiser in the driveway and got out, confusing her until he stuck his head in the car to say, “I’ll go through the front door with Ruben to grab Morty. You drive the cruiser into the garage. You know how to open the door from the outside, and I assume you know how to roll forward, stop and turn the cruiser off.”

He came around to the other side and maneuvered Ruben out and onto his feet while Phoebe scrambled from the back to the front. “Wait, Rick,” she said before he could close the door.

“What? We don’t have all day.”

“Are you...are you being nice?” She knew he would likely just blow her off again, but she had to ask.

Rick blinked then scowled. “No, I’m doing it to establish my cover story.”

“Which is..?”

“That he’s an old friend that I give a medical exam to once a year.” He pursed his lips. “It’s also a good way for you to avoid your father. I’d call it a win-win.” He turned away and slammed the door, gathering up Ruben, who had slumped against the car when they stopped moving, and half-dragging him to the front door. 

Phoebe allowed herself one small victory smile as she pulled the cruiser into the garage.

XXX

The door off of the kitchen opened, admitting Rick and Ruben. “Things will go faster if you help me.”

“Alright,” Phoebe shrugged. “What do you need?”

“I need him naked. Now.”

Phoebe’s face screwed up in displeasure. “That’s unfortunate. I’ll get some gloves.”

She scavenged for the box of disposable gloves and pulled two on, handing a pair to Rick. Together they stripped Ruben down and got him lying on a pingpong table that Rick unfolded from the corner. Rick hooked him up to a monitor, then started checking him over. “Oh, man, Pheebs, I think he’s ill.” He looked up at her. “I need Morty. Stay with him.” He turned on his heel and was gone, returning two minutes later with a confused Morty. “He’s in bad shape, Morty.”

“Aw geez, Rick! What did you do?”

Phoebe couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. Morty looked up and finally seemed to notice her standing by the monitor. “Phoebe! Where have you been? Dad’s been frantic.”

“Gee, thanks Morty. What kind of monster do you think I am?” Morty opened his mouth as if to respond but Rick kept going. “I-I’m sittin’ here trying to save the guy’s life! Don’t worry about where Phoebe’s been, focus.” Rick outfitted Morty with a strange backpack and a communications device that hooked over his ear, fingers moving quickly. “I want you to find Dr. Xenon Bloom,” He said urgently. “He’ll know what’s goin’ on.”

Morty trembled. “Uh… W-W-Where do I find Dr. Bloom?”

“In Ruben,” Rick said carelessly as he shoved what could have been a fish bowl onto Morty’s head. Actually, it looked almost like the bubble-headed top of a sort of spacesuit.

Phoebe gasped. _He couldn’t mean…!_

“Ruben… Minnesota?” Morty guessed.

Rick scoffed. “Ruben on the table, Morty!” He connected the helmet—yes, it was definitely a helmet—to the backpack, which it dawned on Phoebe must be connected either to an air recycling system or oxygen. “Look, I-I don’t have time for you to wrap your little walnut around everything.” _Is he seriously insinuating that Morty has to go inside this man? _When Rick started fiddling with the shrink ray, she knew, even before he finished plugging it in. _Somehow this Dr. Bloom is inside Ruben and Morty is about to be too. Gods. _“Hold your breath until the process is over or your lungs will collapse.”

Phoebe stepped forward. “Rick, is this really the safest thing to do?”

“You worry too much, Phoebe. We’ve been in much more danger before. Morty will be fine.” He positioned Morty without sparing her a glance. She went to his side.

“But do we know what affect this has on someone so young?” she hissed under her breath to him so Morty wouldn’t hear.

“W-What proc—” Morty started, but Rick had already turned the ray on, and suddenly there was no visible Morty.

“Are you completely insane?!” Phoebe said, “What if this affects his overall growth rate? He’s not finished growing and he won’t be for years!”

“He’ll be fine, and if he’s not we’ll fix it,” Rick said dismissively. He bent to retrieve something small—a containment unit for a miniscule Morty?—and put it into a syringe. She watched as he stabbed it into the unconscious man and pushed the plunger.

Phoebe was going to ask him _how exactly he could send Morty, her nephew and his grandson, into a dirty, sick, old homeless man, or into anyone, really_ when the door opened and Beth stood in the doorway of the room. Phoebe flinched, not wanting to be confronted about why she was in the garage with Rick instead of out there with everyone else socializing with her father and his wife. “Hey Dad, where’s Morty?” Beth said to Rick before noticing Phoebe. She seemed surprised to find her there. “Hey Phoebe, would you like to come out here with everyone else? I’m sure Rick could spare you.”

“They’re both busy,” Rick grunted in response to both of her inquiries.

Phoebe shook her head at Beth. “Rick really needs me right now. Maybe later?”

Beth smiled, though some part of it seemed...off. “Sure. See you at dinner?” Phoebe’s panicked eyes darted over to Rick, who was laying the syringe onto the table. He caught her eye and shrugged. “Maybe” she said, “We might be there if we finish in time.” She missed the odd look that passed over Beth’s face before she left.

“_We_, Phoebe? _We’ll_ be there?” Rick said as he grabbed another headset. He started to put it on, making adjustments.

“Well I’m sure as hell not going with _no_ allies.”

Rick scowled at her then started speaking into the mic. “Morty, can you hear me? Head North!”

Phoebe would only be hearing one side of the conversation. She got out her knitting from earlier and started working on the socks again.

“Depending on my aim, you should be just south of the entrance.” Morty must have asked for his location.

Trying to follow the conversation with so many gaps was an odd experience, though not as odd as Rick speaking to Morty while he walked around inside of someone. “Welcome, Morty. Welcome…to Anatomy Park!”

_Anatomy what? _Phoebe shot a disbelieving look at Rick. “A park, really Rick?”

Rick only raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Phoebe, got a problem with it? It’s a little business venture I’ve been cookin’ up on the side with Dr. Bloom. An amusement park inside a human body. Science isn’t cheap. This should really help put a dent in the overhead.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Phoebe murmured. Rick apparently heard her. He shrugged.

“You got a problem with that last one, Morty?” Rick paused for a response. “Okay, alright, if I sounded a little defensive, it’s because Pirates of the Pancreas was my baby.”

Phoebe chuckled. “That’s clever, Rick, Pirates of the Pancreas.”

Rick glared at her. “Are you mocking my theme park attraction, Phoebe? Because I’d like to see you do better.”

“Oh my fucking god chill, I’m not mocking you, Rick, I meant it. I think it’s clever.”

Rick’s glare receded. “I-I got a lot of push-back when I pitched it, you two. I guess I’m still a little defensive. Let’s just find Dr. Bloom, alright? I-I’m picking up a distress signal in the liver, Morty. Proceed to the liver.”

Phoebe felt like the stream of one-sided conversation might drive her a little batty, so she put her knitting away even though she’d not had it out for very long, got out her phone and earbuds, and put her playlist on shuffle-play. She picked up one of the weapons she had been modifying last and set to work.

XXX

She was jarred out of her peaceful calm of music and work when Rick shook her roughly by the shoulder. He was outfitted with an oxygen pack and helmet, and held another set in his hands. “Some serious shit is going down and I didn’t know if you wanted to come along,” he said.

“What’s happening?” Phoebe stood up, noticing that Ruben was no longer on the table. “Is it over? Where’s Ruben? Morty—”

“We don’t have time for your questions,” Rick snapped, shoving the pack and helmet into her hands, “either come or don’t.” He stalked off to the cruiser, which she noticed had Ruben lying awkwardly on his side, his face pressing into the plastic. 

“Oh my god, Rick, is he dead?” she asked, stopping and staring.

Rick grabbed her by the wrist and drug her over to his side, pushing her into the car. “No time. Back seat, now. Put your gear on. I’ll explain once we’re flying.”

Phoebe scrambled into the back, cringing when she accidentally stepped on Ruben’s hair and nose. Rick practically threw himself in and slammed the door. The garage door opened and the cruiser sped out faster than they’d ever taken off before. “Ruben’s dead,” she said.

“Tuberculosis,” Rick replied as both agreement and explanation. “Now put your damn pack and helmet on!” He said with more urgency. Phoebe slipped the straps over her ams and slid the helmet over her head. She reached over one shoulder to connect the delivery tube to the helmet.

“Is Morty still trapped inside of him?” she asked once her suite had turned on and seemed to be working fine.

“That’s the issue.”

“So what are we doing about that?”

“I told Morty to get to the left nipple. As soon as we’re in space, I’ll push Ruben out, enlarge him with my growth ray, and blow him up.”

“That’s insane,” Phoebe said, “but I can see how it would work.”

“I’m almost there, Morty!” Rick yelled as soon as the space cruiser broke into open space a short distance from Earth. He roughly shoved the dead man upright and lit the dynamite sticking out of a gaping wound in his torso. He pushed a button that made the door spring open, then he shoved Ruben’s body out, kicking it with both feet as he reached for the growth ray. He fired it at the body, which grew to an enormous size in a matter of seconds. Phoebe thanked the gods for Rick’s foresight and was immensely glad they all had suits, otherwise they might have been in trouble. She had no idea how long she or Rick would have been able to hold their breath.

Rick flew the cruiser into the nipple, where Phoebe spotted Morty and a young blonde female teenager with her hair in a ponytail. Rick pulled up beside them and the door popped open, sending out a small rush of bottles that must have rolled from under his seat. Morty and the unfamiliar teen piled into the cruiser, the door closing behind them. Phoebe saw just how crowded their adventures would have been if Rick hadn’t put in more seating. She could have technically sat between them in the front, but there would have been far less room and they would all be brushing against each other any time they used the cruiser. 

Rick looked around. “Where’s Dr. Bloom?”

Morty audibly swallowed. “Sorry Rick… He’s dead…”

“Goddamn it, Morty, I ask you to do one thing!” he snarled, taking off. 

They shot out of the nipple and away from the body. Only a minute passed before the force of an explosion rippled out toward them, showering the cruiser in blood and guts. Phoebe made a face. “Fucking grody,” she said. She pokes Morty’s shoulder. “I guess whatever happened to you was pretty wild, huh?”

“Yeah,” Morty said.

By the time they landed, the gory rain of body parts, goo, and blood had ended. Once in the garage, she watched an interesting scene play out: Rick wanting to continue the park but having the problem of a dead partner; Morty’s crush volunteering and being shrunk down and stored in the same cylindrical containment unit Rick used on Morty earlier; Rick and Morty’s subsequent conversation about vaginas. She followed along amusedly until Rick said, “C’mon. Let’s get some stuffing, I’m starving.”

“Um, Rick…” Rick glanced her way. They were all out of their suits by this point.

“Oh, right,” Rick murmured. He walked closer to her. “Are you-are you seriously telling me the woman with a lethal talent for fencing and knife-throwing—the same one that jumped into a monster’s mouth to save her nephew—can’t confront her own father? I’ve seen you kill a customs guard without batting an eye and threaten a cuckold that wanted to beat me to a pulp. You were willing to fist-fight Scary Terry. Surely you can handle one awkward family dinner?”

Phoebe stared at him. “Those things are different, Rick.”

“How, Phoebe, how are they different?” His eyes were like two fierce moons as they bore into hers.

Phoebe bit her lip. “It just is. I don’t think you understand…”

Rick reached out and placed his hand hesitantly on her shoulder. “Phoebe,” Rick said sharply, but rather than the derisive bite that came out for Jerry the sharpness wasn’t meant to cut, “You have _enormous _stones. Seriously. Y-y-your balls are bigger than mine, and that’s saying something. You’ll survive this, so stop dragging your feet.”

Phoebe couldn’t have stopped the smile that spread across her face if she tried. “You’re right, Rick,” she nodded, “Thanks. You’re a good friend.”

Rick snatched his hand back. “I never said we were friends. I just didn’t want to have Jerry up my ass about stealing you away from the family or whatever.”

To her own surprise Phoebe kept from bursting out laughing at Rick’s inability to let anyone suspect he did anything out of kindness. With a straight face, she gave her usual reply. “Sure, Rick.”

XXX

As it turned out, the family had already eaten dinner, but Phoebe still had time to talk to her father, her not-mother, and their latest lover, Jacob, before they left. She made plans to drop by on his birthday and Father's Day, and she invited them all back over for her birthday in April.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's curious about the Indila song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5KAc5CoCuk


	10. Morty, Take The Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty takes the wheel for once after one too many traumatizing adventures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW single mention of/reference to sexual assault in general, nothing graphic. The TW is on this chapter because of Rick's line about soap and spines, you know the one.

_January_

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad, Morty,” Rick said.

“It tried to liquefy my insides and suck them out!” Morty shrieked, “It called it ‘_gut butter’, _Rick!” Phoebe looked up from the notes on the hair serum she was trying to make for Rick (not that Rick knew that; all he knew was that a hair serum that actually grew back hair or made it grow quickly would be profitable). Morty swiveled to look at her. “Phoebe, back me up!”

“I…” she looked between them. “I’m Switzerland,” she said.

“Traitor,” Rick and Morty muttered at once. They glared at each other.

“Morty, I just don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Phoebe soothed. “I admit it was a little...rough at points, but—”

“Oh my god!” Morty exploded. “Rough? _Rough_! Are you fucking kidding me Phoebe?! You’re as bad as Rick!”

“In context it’s not nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be…” She stopped herself. She _did_ sound like Rick. Her concept of danger and injury and even mortal peril must have shifted over the months they’d known each other. She saw Rick smirk, probably because she’d agreed with him, and she saw Morty with as close to a smirk as she’d seen on him, probably because she’d just proved his point. “Okay, in hindsight we weren’t as careful as we could have been, but that just means we do better from now on,” she said, going back to her notes.

“Are you kidding me? I live with Rick and a slightly less deranged version of him?”

“Never said I wasn’t deranged,” she retorted, giving up on being able to read at the moment. “But seriously, Rick and I are always with you! We protect you! We wouldn’t let you _die_!”

“That doesn’t stop me from being traumatized.” He crossed his arms.

Phoebe sighed. “No,” she amended, “it doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean you should give up on this. We’re like...the Three Musketeers. We’re like Harry, Ron, and Hermione. We’re like Sam, Pippin, and Frodo. We’re like white on rice. Sometimes things get crazy, but sometimes they’re really good and they’re always cool, right? Give it another shot?”

Morty still had a mutinous look on his face, but slowly nodded. “I’ll give it another shot,” he agreed.

XXX

_How did they always end up running from something? No wonder Rick’s stamina was off the charts with all the cardio he and Morty did! _Phoebe could hear all of their gasping breaths, every thundering footfall, and the weird zombie-like cries of the clones gaining on them.

Suddenly she was hit in the back and went sprawling. Weight landed on top of her, pinning her to the floor. She turned her head and wished she hadn’t. The weight was Rick. The clones had tackled him and knocked him on top of her. His back was pressed to hers as he fended the clones off with his feet and one arm, the containment chamber held tightly in the hand of his other. He kept squirming trying to fend them off. As much as he complained about her supposed ‘boniness’, he was a bony man himself, and his spine, tailbone, and elbows were killing her.

“Morty, do it! Hit the button now!” Rick yelled.

Morty dithered. “I can’t do it, Rick! They’re my parents and sister!”

“Morty, I already told you, it’s not your family!” Rick snapped. “They’re clones from an alternate reality possessed by demonic alien spirits from another dimension’s future! Do you need a mnemonic device or something? Just hit the button already!”

“I’m being crushed, Morty!” Phoebe called. “Rick’s bony ass is digging into my spine! _Gàn_.” Morty still hesitated. “If I had to kill an evil clone of one of you, there’d already be a knife buried in your neck or between your ribs,” Phoebe gasped quietly to Rick. “What’s taking so long for him to do this!” She looked over and saw why. The Beth clone had broken away and advanced on Morty, who she addressed in a sweet, innocent tone. “Morty, please. I love you, sweetheart,” evil!clone!Beth cooed.

“Ohhhh…” Morty whimpered, hesitating and looking into her eyes.

“Morty!” Phoebe screamed out. Morty’s eyes snapped to her, then he dashed around the clone and dived for the button. He covered his eyes and pressed it with all of the clones advancing on him. They were immediately sucked into the containment box of Rick’s.

Rick rolled off of her which gave her instant relief. “Oh gods,” she gasped, rolling onto her side and wincing. “I’m gonna have bruises.” She glared at Rick, who’d already gotten to his feet and snatched up the box.

He extended a hand and helped her to her feet. “You bony fucker,” she snapped.

Rick smirked. “Don’t like having a taste of your own medicine?”

“I don’t like having your bony ass crush my spine,” she returned. She rolled her eyes. “Are we good now?”

“Yep. Good job, Morty,” he directed at the boy still crouched in the corner. He opened a portal and Phoebe was more than happy to step through with them.

Rick spoke again as he strode over to the shelf. “Y-You know, these demonic alien spirits are really valuable!”

The sound of Morty losing his breakfast drew Phoebe’s attention from her inspection of her back. Yep, bruises. The sound also drew Rick’s attention as he slid the box onto a shelf. “You okay, Morty? Told you not to trust that tuna.”

“I just killed my family! I don’t care what they _were_!” Morty yelled.

“I dunno, Morty. Some people would pay top dollar for that kinda breakthrough.” Phoebe cringed a little at Rick’s callous remark. She was close enough to elbow Rick, so she did. He pretended she didn’t.

“Y-You know what, Rick? That’s it! I-I’m done with these…insane adventures! That was really traumatizing! It was even worse than the last time! I quit! I’m out!”

“See what you did,” she muttered under her breath at him.

“Morty, honey—” Phoebe started to soothe.

“Don’t, Phoebe. You aren’t _like_ Rick, you’re the same! You two are just made for this I guess. Maybe it’ll be easier if it’s just the two of you.” He turned toward the open garage door and started to storm towards the outside. Rick’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Apparently he didn’t think Morty would actually leave.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he protested, running after him and grabbing his shoulder. He pulled him to a shop. “Come on, Morty! D-D-Don’t be like that! The universe is a crazy and chaotic place!”

Phoebe reached out for Morty’s hand. “In the esteemed language of dickbag, that means he’s sorry and he’ll try to take your feelings into account more often,” Phoebe cut in. Rick cut his eyes at her but let it go. That was most certainly _not_ where he had been going with what he said.

Morty had reached a limit, however. Rick’s vicious cajoling and her gentle soothing would not balance out into convincing the teen boy this time. “You’re the one that’s crazy and chaotic! And you’ve pulled Phoebe into your crazy! She-she thinks this kind of crap is normal now! Adventures are supposed to be simple! And fun! Not-not scary and traumatizing.”

Rick scoffed and went on the defensive. “Oh yeah, Morty. Yeah, t-t-that- that’s real easy to say from the sidekick position. But—But, uh, h-how about next time you be in charge, then we’ll talk about how simple and fun it is.” He expended a lot of effort making sure none of them got killed, he meant. Phoebe did too. Their adventures might not be ‘safe’ as in ‘this is as dangerous as picking your nose’, but they were certainly ‘safe’ in the sense that, come hell or high water, Rick would make sure they went as unharmed as possible, especially Morty. He’d said so many times that Phoebe could take care of herself. He’d try to help her, but Morty, who was more often than not helpless, was obviously his priority. Phoebe didn’t resent him for that because she agreed, and she felt the same way about Rick, who had all sorts of gadgets that he carried around in the pockets of his lab coat that he could use to get out of hairy situations. Morty needed more protection because he was more helpless than Rick, but obviously if Rick were about to die she’d help him too.

Morty latched onto something else. “Seriously Rick?! Y-You’ll let me call the shots?” He bounced with excitement, his anger vanishing without a trace.

Phoebe facepalmed. That hadn’t been the main point at all. Like, nowhere close to it.

Rick, frustrated, gave in without the amount of begging it should have taken. “Okay, fine. But let’s make it interesting, Morty. I-I-If your adventure sucks, and we bail halfway through it, you lose the right to bitch about all future adventures. Plus, you have to do my laundry for a month.”

Morty easily accepted. “Okay, all right, tough guy! But if my adventure's good...I get to be in charge of every third adventure!” Ambitious, was he? Well, she supposed everyone one was with something or other.

“Every 10th,” Rick negotiated.

“Deal. All right. Well, come on, let's get going.”

The universe seemed to throw a wrench in their plan. Beth, Summer, and Jerry all came in needing something: Beth complained about the dishwasher malfunctioning, Summer wanted help with science homework, and Jerry...that _báichī_ motherfucker couldn’t open mayonnaise.

Rick tried weaseling out of the adventure immediately when presented with an out. “Wow. Hat trick. All right, Morty, let's put a pin in this. I got to help your pathetic family.”

“Oh, that sounds like something a chicken would say. Bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk,” Morty taunted.

Chicken? The man had just fist-fought demons earlier for crying out loud!

Rick rose to the challenge. “Oh, Morty, you done did it this time. It's on. I can't wait to watch your adventure lay a huge fart. As for you dingdongs...This is a Meeseeks box. Let me show you how it works. You press this.”

So he demonstrated. Apparently it if you pressed the button a blue humanoid called a Meeseeks popped out of the box and could complete simple tasks for you. As soon as they did, they disappeared. It was sort of like an unlimited number of genies-slash-brownies who had limited power. They needed simple tasks or else they could have difficulty completing them. 

Morty shooed the other three Smiths away, though it was mostly unnecessary. They hardly lingered once they realized what they had at their disposal. They obviously wanted to try out the Meeseeks Box. Phoebe only hoped none of them managed to screw up using it. “All right! Get out of here now! Everybody out of here! I got a bet to win!”

“You know,” Phoebe mused aloud, “if _Morty _can choose an adventure, maybe I could too, except I’d probably have us look at tidal pools or visit a plant nursery or—”

“Lame. That’s not an adventure,” Rick said, but he didn’t sound angry or irritated. He sounded...well, she would say _fond_ if it were anyone else, though she could say ‘amused’ with more certainty…at least, she hoped it was amusement.

Phoebe continued, “I also think that at some point we should just have a relaxing vacation at a resort or do something fun, maybe a theme park or an arcade…”

“Fun, but also not an adventure.”

“No shit Sherlock, it wasn’t meant to be.” Rick narrowed his eyes at her.

“_Ahem_,” Morty cleared his throat exaggeratedly. “I don’t want a lecture or a vacation, I want an adventure, so let’s go!”

Phoebe barred Rick’s way with her arm as Morty ran to jump in the space cruiser. “I should at least get to drive,” she suggested hopefully.

Rick narrowed his eyes at her. “Only one change per day, Pheebs.”

Phoebe stuck her tongue out at Rick. “_Gǔnkāi_.”

Rick smiled darkly. “Didn’t you know Phoebe? That’s where we’re gonna be today. I do _not_ have enough booze for this.” With that he marched over toward the space cruiser. Phoebe hurried to beat him inside so he didn’t get any ideas about leaving her behind.

XXX

“What kind of _Lord of the Rings, A Song of Ice and Fire _bullshit is this?” Phoebe muttered, glancing at their surroundings speculatively.

“Right?” Rick scowled. Louder, he grumbled, “God, Morty, what a boring start to an adventure. Why didn't we just go to Kentucky?”

“Because he wants to be Harry fucking Potter,” Phoebe muttered under her breath.

Rick snorted.

“Rick, Phoebe, this is a fantasy-type world with creatures and all sorts of fantasy things. We're going on a quest, okay?”

“Can't wait.” Rick’s sarcasm was a little thick today.

“I’m not saying this is gonna suck,” Phoebe said as Morty ran off ahead of them, “because I actually like fantasy as much as I like sci-fi. But Morty seems a little...overeager?”

“That’s just Morty. He’s too easily impressed,” Rick replied.

Just then Morty’s voice carried over loudly to them. Phoebe pinpointed him and groaned. He’d made a platform for himself and was addressing an amassing crowed. “Ahem. Excuse me! We are three humble heroes in search of adventure!”

Beside her Rick cursed under his breath, adding, “My God, so embarrassing.”

Phoebe’s own cheeks were burning. “I know,” she murmured, also under her breath, as she covered her face with her hands. “I’m all for an adventure but _really?_”

One of the villagers—a man, by the sound of it—exclaimed excitedly, “At last! Three heroes! You must help us! This village is terribly poor, yet the giant that lives in the clouds above has untold treasures!”

“They want us to save them from capitalism?” Phoebe could agree but she couldn’t say she’d _expected _this turn of events.

Morty responded directly to the villager. “You know what? I accept your call to adventure, good sir, kind sir. Come on, Rick and Phoebe. There's a giant in the clouds!”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Beginner's luck.”

“Now he thinks he’s Jack from _Jack and the Beanstalk_.” Phoebe looked at Rick, who wore a sour expression. “At least this can’t possibly get worse.”

XXX

“Okay, I lied,” Phoebe commented as they were arrested and taken to a police station for murder charges. Not that they’d done it (this time). The damn fool giant had fallen and hit his head on a table! They didn’t even touch him! If they were going to prison, it shouldn’t be over something they didn’t actually do.

The giants forced them to have mugshots taken, then they were dumped in an interrogation room.

“What fresh hell will this be?” Phoebe muttered to herself as two giants gazed balefully down at them.

“Hey, look, we get it,” one of the detectives leered nastily at them, “You're little, you're down on your luck, you think, ‘hey, he's a giant. Why don't we break into his home, rob him, and murder him?’”

“That’s fucking racist as hell,” Phoebe snapped at the same time Morty stammered nervously, “Th-th-but that's not how it went down!”

“Oh, well, it's going down like that. You're all three going down like that.”

“This is discrimination,” Phoebe grumbled, crossing her arms.

“I can show you some discrimination,” the detective sneered, and wow was it unattractive on someone besides Rick. “I can turn the cameras off right now. The feed’s been a little glitchy lately, no one will question it.”

Rick, who she hadn’t noticed get so close to her, applied light pressure to her back. He wanted her to be quiet before the giant hurt them, she guessed.

“Ooh, boy, Morty, you're really showing me how it's done. Real straightforward and fun,” he drawled.

“Sometimes there are complications, Rick! Happens to you all the time,” Morty retorted.

“Yeah, and Rick and I usually have contingency plans for when they do,” Phoebe told him. “We don’t just blindly go forth all willy-nilly! If things go South we have safety nets in place, although sometimes we have to improvise, too.”

“Admit it, you’re just not a great thinker on your feet, Morty,” Rick snipped. “And y-y-you just don’t ever think ahead Morty.”

Morty persevered. “We’ll get out of this somehow!”

“Your trial will be in an hour,” the detective said nastily. “Good luck.” He clearly didn’t mean it

XXX

They’d been heckled and jeered at when they came in, and judging by the facial expressions of the giants present, this society was as racist as earth, just in a different way. It was bigs and smalls instead of white and non-white, size instead of skin-tone, ethnic history, or hair and facial features.

The judge banged his gavel. “Order in the court! Before the jury reaches its verdict, I just want to say that I consider you three _very_ guilty.”

If at all possible, Rick’s sarcasm increased. “Oh, great adventure, buddy. Rick, Morty, and Phoebe go to giant prison. You know, if somebody drops the soap, it's gonna land on our heads and crush our spines, Morty. You know, it'll be really easy to rape us after that.”

Phoebe gasped. “Rick, _seriously_? Not the time.”

“We're gonna be okay, Rick.” Morty’s confidence and positivity would have been inspiring under different circumstances, admirable even. With their current predicament Phoebe just wanted him to shut up.

“How?” Rick snapped. “They took my portal gun. Phoebe doesn’t have her dress. This is an open-and-shut case, Morty. You know, what do you think's gonna happen, some magical angel's gonna show up and then—”

Almost as if on cue a suit-wearing giant threw the courtroom doors open and marched down the aisle. “Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum! I smell the violation of civil liberties! Your honor, I'm from a tiny-persons advocacy group and I have here in my hand a motion to dismiss. These little men—and little woman—were never read their giant rights and are therefore free-fi to fo-home.” Phoebe smirked. Dramatic but effective. Now that’s what she was talking about! An ACLU/NAACP but for tiny people!

Apparently the court wasn’t quite following along. They sounded as confused as Rick looked. Rick leaned over and whispered in Phoebe’s ear, “W-what the hell is he talking about?”

“Dunno, but this should be good,” she whispered back.

The lawyer continued, “They're free to go, is what I meant. I'm deconstructing our thing we say. We're giants. Nobody got that? Whatever.”

Phoebe closed her eyes. _Oh gods was Morty ever going to take this as a divine blessing to go on with the adventure, even after they’d nearly been jailed for being tiny and in the wrong place at the wrong time._

“Oh, man, what did I tell you, Rick? We did it!”

Damn. She hated being right sometimes.

The other giants did not seem pleased. She was a little afraid they’d be crushed out of spite. She ran across the table and jumped up and down, waving her arms about. “Good sir!” She called, “lawyer from the advocacy group!”

He turned looked around until he found her, then he went over and knelt so he was at her level. “Yes, Miss?” he said respectfully.

“Could you please stay with us until we’re released? I’m afraid for our safety.”

She saw his eyes flicker towards the other giants, who were all seething. “I can understand why. I’ll stay.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, making her voice sound as earnest and grateful as possible. It wasn’t too much of a stretch given that she really, _really_ didn’t want to be crushed by an angry objector.

“Charles Bennington,” he said. “But _you _can call me Charlie.”

She held her hand out and shook his thumb. “Phoebe,” she said, “pleased to meet you.”

“Yes, well, I wish we had met under different circumstances,” he said. He stood up and offered his hand. “Would you like a ride to pick up your things?”

Understanding, Phoebe nodded, stepping into his hand. She looked back for Rick and Morty, who were staring at her and the giant. Rick looked as if he’d also been worried about them being crushed, though he didn’t seem overly happy about something else. “Hey, you two,” she called. “Get with the program.”

Rick and Morty slowly came over. “Charlie here has kindly agreed to escort us until we’re released. He also offered to carry us to get our things so it doesn’t take a million years.”

“Gee, that’s nice,” Morty said. He looked at Charlie. “T-th-thank you, sir.”

Rick helped Morty up, and then Phoebe and Morty pulled him up. The giant beat a hasty retreat out of the courtroom with them securely tucked in the curl of his palm. It seemed like time flew by as they received their things and changed back into their own clothes. As they emerged from the changing rooms, he knelt down. “I have to go meet another client, but I’m glad I could assist you today.” He pulled what looked like a metal Mentos case out of his pocket and opened it toward them. “My card.” There were stacks of business cards nearly laid out, all printed and cut at what would be normal size for Phoebe, Rick, and Morty.

Phoebe took three and passed one each to Rick and Morty. She tucked hers into one of the many pockets on her dress. “Thank you, Charlie. We really appreciate your help today.”

He closed the case and pocketed it. “It’s really no problem.” His eyes crinkled when he smiled, and then he gave Phoebe a boyish grin. “I meant it when I said I wished I had met you under different circumstances, Phoebe. Maybe then you wouldn’t be my client and I could buy you a drink, but now I have to keep it professional.” He winked at her, stood, and left.

_Had he really just..?! _“Oh my god, Phoebe, I think he was flirting with you!” Morty exclaimed. So she hadn’t imagined it, especially if Morty had noticed. Lovely.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier with the detective?” Rick sneered, shouldering past her. “Next time I guess Phoebe just needs to show a little neck or ankle for us to be released.”

Phoebe caught up with him and nudged him back. “Fuck you. You know it wasn’t like that.”

“How would it even work? Would he just use his pinky?”

“Rick!” Phoebe hissed in exasperation. “What the fuck?”

He maintained his bad mood until they got outside, where it only got worse when they all saw the steps down.

“All right, Morty, looks like the portal gun's still working. You ready to head home?” Rick drawled, clearly assuming they were done.

“Oh, yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you, Rick? Well, you know what? We're not bailing out just yet. You know, we're gonna go find some treasure or something and—and we're gonna bring it to those villagers.”

Phoebe groaned. _Didn’t he ever give up? _“We almost went to fucking _jail_, Morty!”

Rick was on the same wavelength. “Morty, cut your losses. This is obviously awash.”

“Yeah, you were saying that back when we first got arrested, Rick, but here we are, you know, walking down the courthouse steps.”

“More like falling to our deaths,” Phoebe commented. “I’m a fencer, not a climber.”

“What are you complaining about, at least you’ve built up the stamina and upper body strength,” Rick said.

They look down the stairs to see them seemingly descending into infinity, each step the size of a business back home.

“Oh, boy, Morty. We’re in for a lot of fun, and by fun I mean pain in our ass.”

“You can say that again,” Phoebe agreed.

“Usually, walking down the courthouse steps is the easy part of the adventure,” Morty said.

“Too bad that giant lawyer that has the hots for you couldn’t stay to take us down,” Rick shot at Phoebe. “His little crush on you could have been useful.” He sighed. “What do you say, Morty?”

“I say give me a hand, sidekick.”

Phoebe sighed resignedly. “This is going to be a long fucking day isn’t it?”

“No, what gave you that idea?” Rick snarled as he tried calculating the distance between each step.

“Hey, don’t take this out on me. You’re the one who let Morty take the wheel.”

“Hey!” Morty pouted.

“Just shut up and start climbing,” Rick snapped at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gàn = Fuck (in the sense of "oh fuck!/fuck this/FML")
> 
> Gǔnkāi = 'go to hell'


	11. The Death of Humpty-Dumpty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's karaoke, revenge murder, and whiskey. Rick has a moment of...shall we say, discomfort? in public.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for non-witnessed/inferred/referenced and attempted sexual assault against a minor [Morty]. I don’t actually use the scene and don’t go into any details. King Jellybean is fucking gross.

_January, Same day as the Fantasy World Excursion_

It was unbearably slow going. They’d been climbing down for at least an hour at that point. Rick and Phoebe were both in a foul mood by then.

“Yeah, Morty, this is the part of the story everybody loves, scaling down 650,000 oversized steps!” What they had to do sucked great big elephant cock but Rick’s bitching was starting to wear on her nerves more than climbing down.

“All right, okay, you know, if this was a story, this part wouldn't be included, stupid,” Morty said impatiently.

Phoebe spotted a...mouse hole? She let go of the rough ‘wall’ of the step with one hand and pointed. “Morty, what’s that?”

Morty squinted, then brightened. “Hey, Rick, what do you know? Look down there at what Phoebe found! Looks like some kind of tavern or something built right into the side of the step.”

Once they had all gotten to the top of the next step they investigated. It was a tavern just as Morty guessed, one called _The Thirsty Step_. Morty was once more in his element. “Oh, wow, Rick, Phoebe. Now, this is more like it. Look, there's little staircase-shaped people in here. All kinds of crazy characters. This place is great, you know? It's whimsical and fun.”

There were indeed staircase-shaped people, and other odd characters like hammer-shaped people. As they walked through the tavern to an empty booth, Phoebe found one of the staircase-shaped people staring towards them, though she wasn’t sure if it was looking at her or at Rick. Rick, who’d been looking around, saw the staring, too.

“What are you looking at, motherfucker?” he snarled, slamming his hands down on the table and taking a half step forward and to the side so that his body blocked most of the view she had.

“Hey, hey, easy, Rick,” Morty soothed.

“Calm down, Rick, I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it,” Phoebe said. “I don’t think he was stepping up to you or whatever.”

“He won’t if he knows what’s good for him,” Rick threatened.

They finally reached a booth and sat. Phoebe sat with Morty almost automatically because she was so used to sitting down across from Rick when they went drinking.

A plump waitress with huge breasts came to their table. “Pay them no mind. Those stair goblins can be moody. Now, what can I getcha? We've got skarlog poppies, flurlow, halzingers, bloogies, juicy time babies.”

“What about spiced rum?” Phoebe asked.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, how about some scotch whiskey?” Rick added. “You got any of that around here? Or just a bunch of nonsense words?”

Morty glared at them both. Phoebe hardly felt that she deserved to be lumped in with Rick’s antics. “Rick, Phoebe... We'll have three bloogies, please. And, uh, we were wondering, is there a faster way two heroes could get down these stairs?

A disgusting slug in the next booth spoke up, his head turning to look over the top at them. “Y'all need to ride down the stairs? My name is slippely-slippery stair.” He slid out of the booth, a saddle on his middle. How...convenient. Did he do this for a living? Did he just hang out in the tavern to take people up and down the stairs? “I'll take you down there for 25 shmeckels.”

“What the fuck is a shmeckel?” Phoebe wondered aloud.

“Twenty-five shmeckels?” Rick said skeptically, waving his arms about, “I don't know how much—I don't know what that is. Is that a lot? Is it a little?”

“That's exactly how much I spent on my big fake boobies,” the waitress told them, shimmying her chest at them. Her boobs bounced obscenely.

Phoebe lowered her head to the table and let it _thunk_ a little. Un-fucking-believable. This was far weirder for her than either the anatomy park or the rectum stuffed with Mega Seeds. She tried desperately to block out someone asking to buy the waitresses’ fake breasts and the ensuing conversation about it.

“Morty, your adventure's in a spiral,” Rick said. “For real, man, time to pull out. It’s something everyone should learn. You gotta pull out before mistakes happen.”

Internally Phoebe was screaming. _Did Rick just make a pulling out joke?_

“You keep heckling my adventure, Rick! You know why?”

“Uh, because it's lame?” Rick drawled.

“Because Rick and I are being emotionally scarred?” Phoebe interrupted, her voice muffled by her arms.

“It's because you're petty, Rick! And emotionally scarred, Phoebe? How do you think I felt after what happened on our last adventure? You know, how many times have I had to follow you into some nonsensical bull crap? I always roll with the punches, you two. Why can't you? Look, I got to take a leak, and when I come back, if you haven't learned how to lighten up, don't be here!”

Rick waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever.”

Morty got up abruptly for the bathroom. Phoebe lifted her head. “Wait, Morty, take a knife!” She called.

“He’s already gone,” Rick said. He glared at the wood of the booth as if it had personally wronged him. “This whole thing is idiotic.”

“Some parts of it weren’t so bad,” Phoebe disagreed, “in context. I mean, the threat of jail was bad, but this part might be okay.” She nudged his leg with her foot under the table. “Besides, don’t you and me usually make the most of things when shit hits the fan? We’ve come back from way worse than something you find tame and boring.”

“I guess,” Rick conceded. “Doesn’t mean I have to like this stupid ass ‘adventure’ of Morty’s.” He made air quotes around the word adventure.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Behave.”

The big titty waitress came back with their drinks on a tray. She plunked then on the table and left. Phoebe reached to take a sip then promptly spit it out after her face screwed up in disgust. “Ugh, that’s fucking repulsive,” she stuck out her tongue and gagged.

Rick pulled his own over and took a drink. His brow wrinkled. “Tastes like sour dog piss,” he said, pushing it away.

“Yeah.” Phoebe clasped her hands and looked over her fingers at him. “They have karaoke. I saw the stage when we came in.”

Rick scowled. “I am not—”

“Rick, I’m going to make sure you enjoy yourself doing _something_ today, so come on, get up, I know you like to sing.” She slid out of the booth and held a hand out to him.

“I can get out on my own, I’m not that old,” he snapped as he stood up next to her.

“Don’t worry, I know how limber you are from all the times we’ve been chased or nearly killed,” Phoebe said. “Now come on, you won’t regret it.”

He took his hip flask out and took a long pull from it.

“Can I have a swallow to wash out the taste of that swill?” Phoebe asked. She was startled but privately pleased when Rick held it out to her. She sniffed it. Hmm, vodka. Acceptable. She sipped until she measured about a shot in her mouth, then swallowed and handed it back. “Thanks.”

“If I didn’t let you, you’d be up my ass about it,” he shrugged.

They made their way over to the stage and got on together. Five minutes later they were harmonizing much better than she suspected either of them would have believed otherwise.

“_Sweet home Alabama,” _Rick and Phoebe sang smoothly together. _“Where the skies are so blue.”_

Once they finished the crowd wanted an encore performance. After a second round met with a (very drunk) standing ovation, Rick decided to go over and play cards with a group of the bar’s patrons. He seemed to be in higher spirits to Phoebe, which made her feel incredibly accomplished. His mood earlier could have curdled milk. Now that she didn’t have to look out for him she struck out on her own. There were no takers for the karaoke stage, so she decided to sing a song by herself. Rick had picked the last one, so she picked this one rather than polling the crowd. It was _her_ solo after all, and she didn’t get a choice last time. It was only fair she choose this time. She yo-yo-ed between _Holy_ and _Young God_, then resolved to do both if there were still no takers.

She readjusted the mic nervously, hoping Rick wouldn’t mock her for her song choice. She took a deep breath, suddenly realizing that she felt a lot braver singing in front of a crowd, even a small, dinky, half-drunk crowd in a dingy bar, with Rick by her side. But if she could slay monsters and talk to her father, surely she could sing karaoke? It was _karaoke_. Hardly anyone was good at it. It didn’t matter if she screwed up the notes or the words; most people sang off key, and depending on their level of sobriety, forgot words and slurred along to the same line repeatedly. Her shoulders straightened and she leaned in to the mic, the first words falling out of her lips after a last shaky breath.

“_I ain't got no time, no_

_'Cause when this day is done_

_I still got shit to run_

_I could make it for you_

_'Cause you're so beautiful_

_I'd rather drink you up.” _

Over at the card table, Rick paused before making his move, half his attention on his cards and half of it vaguely interested in what Phoebe chose. He’d never heard it before. It sounded like it could be pop-y and that was all he knew. He had no idea what Phoebe liked, as he only had the one French song to go off of.

_“Honey, on your knees when you look at me_

_I'm dressed like a fucking queen and you're begging, "please"_

_I rule with the velvet tongue_

_And my dress undone_

_And I'll get you lost but I'm having fun_

_Holy, holy, holy, yeah_

_Holy, holy, holy, holy”_

Rick scowled down at his cards, shifting around in his seat uncomfortably, crossing his legs, and suddenly finding the cards in his hand much more interesting than they’d been before. He lost himself in the game and focused solely on thoroughly trouncing his opponents. When Phoebe finally came over after the end of the song and a round of playing darts, she didn’t know he’d ever been listening.

XXX

“Read 'em and weep, fellas!” Rick exclaimed as Morty came back. Phoebe had been sitting nearby not playing. “Hey Morty,” Phoebe chirped, seeing him first.

Her greeting alerted Rick to Morty’s presence. He’d been concentrating fiercely on playing and she hadn’t been able to speak to him at all. “Oh, hey, Morty. Listen, I'm really sorry about all that stuff I said earlier about your adventure. I'm havin' a good time, Morty. It's not so bad.”

“Yeah, we both sang Karaoke, I played a round of darts and Rick’s been killing it at cards.” Her smile faltered. Morty seemed...off somehow.

She got an even stronger feeling that something was wrong when he spoke. “Let's just go home, okay? I'm calling it. The adventure's over.” That was odd after all they’d been through today and his persistence to carry on despite it all. Had something happened in the bathroom?

“We can't leave now, Morty. I'm on fire!” Rick spoke without looking at Morty or paying close attention. He really had racked up some decent winnings.

Morty took to begging him and Phoebe just _knew_ something happened in the bathroom. “Look, I want to leave now. You win the bet, okay? Just give me the portal gun and let's go, please. Please, I just want to go home.” He tried taking the portal gun himself and Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. Only certain things happened in bathrooms that would make Morty want to leave so abruptly, and none of those things were good. She might really be going to jail here.

She looked at Rick and saw him looking toward the bathrooms. She followed his gaze to see a badly beaten blue jellybean figure stumble out of the men’s bathroom. _Oh. My. Gods_. Her hand, which had inadvertently delved into one of the weapons pockets, squeezed the handle of a knife. She looked at Rick again. He was looking at her and must have seen the look on her face. He nodded minutely and she felt fire in her blood.

“Okay. Listen, Morty,” Rick said with only a moment’s pause. “I just won a bunch of shmeckels. Why don't we use 25 of them to pay Slippery Stair here for a ride back to the village, and then we'll give the rest of the shmeckels to the villagers, huh?”

“Really?” Morty sounded a little cheered.

“Sure, Morty. Yeah. You know, a good adventure needs a good ending.” Rick’s face was tight, his lips smiling but his eyes blazing. Phoebe shivered. They were going to kill that jellybean together if they ran across him before they left. They made the arrangements with Slippery and before she knew it they were all on his back going down much faster than before. Morty sat in the broad saddle in front of her and she clutched him to her chest protectively. Rick sat behind her, his arms around them both. His body was stiff and Phoebe just knew he had to be plotting all the ways they could get away with murder.

XXX

The three of them rode in on the slug, no longer clinging to each other for dear life. Instead of holding Morty, Phoebe’s arms were wrapped around herself. They were immediately sighted by the same man that spoke to Morty earlier. “Thank you, kind sir. Our village is saved! You are all three true heroes!”

“Good job, Morty. Looks like you won the bet.” Rick’s voice sounded like it usually did—mostly. There was something underneath it that Phoebe heard. She figured he could hear the same in hers, some soft, dangerous element of carefully controlled calm and murderous intent.

“Yeah, nice job picking, Morty.” Phoebe affectionately slung her arm around Morty’s shoulders in a quick side hug. She hoped he couldn’t feel her shaking from repressed rage.

“Thanks, Rick, but I don't know if I should. You know, you were right about the universe. It's a crazy and chaotic place.”

Phoebe stayed silent so she wouldn’t cry or hit someone. She was an angry crier and she was feeling murderous.

“Well, you know, maybe that's why it could use a little cleaning up every now and then, you know. This one's wrapped up neat and clean because we did it Morty style.”

_Oh my gods, is this Rick’s version of being caring? _ They both suspected that Morty had been violated in the bathroom.

The peasant spoke again. “Oh! Heroes, we would like to introduce you to our beloved king so that he may thank you personally.”

To her horror, Phoebe saw them carrying the jellybean man toward them on a throne. He wore a crown and other monarch-related regalia. _No fucking way_.

An obviously terrified Morty said, “Uh, no, I-it's cool.” To Rick he hissed, “Rick. Portal. Hurry.”

Rick opened a portal and the three of them stepped through. Phoebe grabbed Rick’s wrist in a crushing grip and pressed into his skin with her fingers. She hoped it translated as _wait. _“Morty, why don’t you go lie down and rest and I’ll make you a cake later,” she said in a rush, “to celebrate. I’ll wake you when it’s done.”

“Oh, um, sure, okay. That sounds like a great idea. Thanks Phoebe.” He didn’t even look back as he left the garage.

As soon as he was through the door Phoebe whipped around to Rick. Their eyes met, and she just knew, though no words were spoken, that they were on the same page. He took two guns from his pocket, the energy pistol and the electrocution pistol. He handed her the latter. The portal opened. They checked to see if things were as they had been less than a minute before. Assured they were, their arms raised at the same time. With perfect aim, they fired side by side. They hit home, the portal closing to screams as the jellybean pervert exploded all over his subjects.

XXX

Later that night, hours after learning about the disastrous end result of leaving Beth, Jerry, and Summer (mainly Jerry) alone with the Meeseeks Box, and after serving a delicious triple chocolate cake to Morty, Phoebe wandered downstairs in her Tweety Bird thermal pajamas, and slipped outback. She was surprised to see Rick there smoking a joint and reclining in a lawn chair. The chair was turned away from her, the smoke wafting into the cool night air.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” she said casually, leaning against the cool glass of the door.

Rick held it out to her. “Yeah. Want some?”

She shook her head. “No thanks. I don’t care if other people do it but it never tickled my fancy.” She went over and grabbed one of the remaining chairs and drug it out to him. She dropped into it with a grunt, her the blue of the pajama pants snuggly hugging her long brown legs looking brighter and bluer in the moonlight as she pulled her knees to her chest and tucked them under her chin. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” she whispered. “You know.” She waved her hand vaguely at the upper story of the house.

“If you mean Morty probably being molested in the bathroom by a pervert, yeah, I can’t either.” He took a particularly long drag, not coughing or spluttering once. Phoebe stared. He must have lungs of steel, years of experience, or both.

“I thought you knew, especially when we killed him together, but I just…”

“Yeah, it’s fucked up,” Rick drawled.

“It’s none of our faults. We had no way of knowing—”

Rick interrupted her. “Don’t coddle me, Phoebe—”

She interrupted Rick. “You’re not a god or a seer, Rick!” You can’t predict everything. Sometimes bad things happen.”

Rick laughed, an action that confused her until the bitterness and darkness in it hit her. “What was that about?” She squinted to see his face in the dark. He was looking at the night sky.

“You sounded like Diane just then,” he said quietly.

“Who?”

“My wife.”

Phoebe blinked. “Where is she? I didn’t know you were married.”

Another hit on the joint, then Rick spoke. “I’m not. She’s dead.”

“Oh,” Phoebe deflated. “Well, I feel like an ass now.”

“Don’t.” He lifted up a bottle of whiskey that he’d had lowered to his lap and drank deep. When he lowered it again he offered it to her too and she took it. They passed the whiskey back and forth between them as they sat in the dark together. They didn’t say much after that, but Phoebe felt like maybe she was Rick’s friend even if he wouldn’t say the words.


	12. The End of The World and A Triple Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the fucking world (sort of, anyway...the end of our trio's life in C-137 at any rate).

_February_

“Hey, Rick,” Phoebe greeted as she stepped into the garage. He was leaning over fiddling with something.

“Phoebe,” he acknowledged.

“Just wanted to let you know I won’t be back until late. I’m going to be in the Hurston labs for a few hours doing some research and supervising some undergrads.”

“Alright.” Without looking at her he held out an energy pistol. Despite the fact that he knew Phoebe to be a dab hand with blades, he still insisted she take one of the pistols when she went out alone.

Phoebe took it but ducked her head so her hair would fall in the way and hide her amused smile. Rick _did_ care, he just showed it differently than others. If she were leaving a different friend she might have given them a hug as she passed by them. Instead, because this was _Rick_, and Rick wasn’t a hugger, she briefly touched his shoulder for a few seconds and then let her hand fall. That was their farewell ritual now, that and him insisting she take any of the various weapons. “I’ll see you,” Phoebe said, exiting the garage. She got a grunt of acknowledgement in response.

XXX

Barely two hours later, Phoebe knew something was wrong. It was not yet time to supervise the undergraduates, so she was in the lab building alone. She was taking notes on an experiment of hers—the hair serum that started as a project for Rick but quickly became something that would make her untold amounts of money—when her phone started ringing. She had it set on _Do Not Disturb_, but with the option to knock DND mode off if the same person called twice in a row within three minutes. She didn’t like being disturbed during a lab, but wanted people to be able to reach her in case of an emergency. She reached into her lab coat pocket, absentmindedly pulling her cell phone out, unlocking it, and raising it to talk without glancing at the screen.

Before she could say a word, Rick’s frantic voice came on the line. “Phoebe,” Rick said, and it was the first time she’d heard anything approaching panic in his voice. “Are you all right?”

“Rick?” She held the phone out and looked at it to double-check the caller ID before bringing it back to her ear. “Why?” She said suspiciously.

“Because we’re in some serious shit this time. I might have screwed up a love serum that hijacked the flu virus to spread from person to person, resulting in the entire world wanting to bone Morty and everyone who smelled like him.”

“Everyone who smelled like h... pheromones!” Phoebe said, thinking quickly. Pheromones relayed information that included how related two individuals were, and non-human animals had a much sharper sense of smell in general than did humans, but apparently the serum allowed those infected to hone in on those scents as well. “Fuck. And since I’m so closely related to him they might mistake me for him.” Phoebe blinked. “Wait, did you say _love serum_? Why the hell would you make a love serum?”

Implicit in the question was the disbelief that Rick would ever, at any point, make something even remotely like a love potion. “Morty wanted to attract this girl he went to school with so she’d notice he existed. But it backfired. I used oxytocin from a vole which caused obsession, then because they’re obviously opposites as far as mating habits I tried to counter it with praying mantis DNA—”

“Rick,” Phoebe tried to stay calm. “Did you seriously tamper with DNA and hormones without asking me?”

Rick growled defensively, “I can conduct experiments without you holding my hand, Phoebe! I did it all the time before you came into our lives!”

“But your specialty is physics and technology. My specialty is _biochemistry_.”

Rick was quiet for a moment, then said, “Look, we’re flying toward you to pick you up right now. We have to leave.”

“Leave? To live in space or something? Aren’t we going to try and fix this mess?”

“No. Everyone might have...genetically mutated further with the addition of koala, rattlesnake, chimpanzee, cactus, shark, golden retriever, and just a smidge of dinosaur DNA…”

“Oh my god,” Phoebe whispered. “I have no idea how long it would take to try and untangle the mess you made.”

“Fuck it! I’m not sure if we can. The mutations might be permanent. At least the Cronenbergs won’t try to mate with us then brutally murder us anymore. I fixed that.”

“So we’re just abandoning everyone and everything we’ve ever known to a fate as mutated monsters? Life on earth as we know it is over?”

“Life on _this _earth is. I found a suitable replacement dimension. It’s just like this one but without the genetic mutation disaster.”

“Rick—”

“Don’t argue, just come outside. Keep the energy pistol drawn. Unless it’s us, shoot first and ask questions later.”

Phoebe bit her lip. “Okay,” she said. “I’m coming.” Her hand slowly lowered until her arm hung limply at her side. She stared around the room, at the equipment and workspaces and chairs. She looked down at her own experiment. She straightened and carefully folded her notes and tucked them into the lab coat she had on. She decanted what she had at the moment and slipped a vial into the same pocket. She took off her gloves and goggles, grabbed her bag and jacket, and slowly made her way out of the building with the energy pistol ready to fire. She called Rick back once she reached the ground floor. “Which entrance are you by Rick?”

“The parking lot side.”

Phoebe made her way over to that entrance and cautiously opened the door. Rick and Morty were only a few feet away, the parked space cruiser not even in an actual space, but rather parked haphazardly. She ran to them and threw her arms around them both. “You two are such idiots,” she said. “But I’m so glad you came.”

She backed up to see Rick wincing. “Are you hurt?” Phoebe said in concern, hand extended.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d touch me,” he said, looking disturbed. Ouch.

“Oh. I mean I’m glad you’re not murdered, so…” she hid her mortified blush by looking around. Something was missing. “Where are the others?”

“They’re not coming. Just us,” Rick replied, which confused her.

“What? Why not?”

Rick sighed. “Just trust me, Phoebe.”

He opened a portal, grabbed her and Morty by their lower arms and hauled them through the green energy...right into the middle of a gory scene. It was the garage but covered in blood, and in the floor lay three familiar looking bodies, burned and bloodied: her own, Rick’s, and Morty’s. Her stomach lurched and she felt dizzy, a sudden sense of vertigo overtaking her. She suddenly understood everything: why Rick didn’t bring the others, why he didn’t bother fixing their old reality. They were going to replace their clones in a parallel universe without anyone the wiser. The realization made her feel like she was floating, like she could see the room outside of herself. When Morty spoke she heard him as if from afar, as if she had her head underwater, the sounds distorted.

“Oh, my god, Rick! Is that us?!” Morty screeched. “W-w-w-we're dead! What is going on, Rick? I'm freaking out!”

“Calm down, Morty! Look at me! Calm down, Morty!”

“No, I can't deal with this!”

“Calm yourself, Morty.”

“I can't deal with this, Rick!”

“Calm down, Morty.”

“This can't be real!”

“You got to calm down, Morty.”

“W-w-w-w-we're ripped apart!”

“No, we’re not,” a dazed Phoebe interrupted Morty’s panic and Rick’s attempts to calm it. She was unnervingly calm, not quite Vulcan-like but totally closed off in a way that wasn’t normal for her. “_They_ are. The us that died. They’re torn apart, we’re okay.”

Rick glanced at her, his face concerned. He looked at Morty, reached out, and slapped him. It tended to work on hysterical people, and it worked on Morty, who fell silent. “Shut up and listen to me! It's fine. Everything is fine. It’s just like Phoebe said. _We’re_ not dead, _they_ are. There's an infinite number of realities, Morty, and in a few dozen of those, I got lucky and turned everything back to normal. I just had to find one of those realities in which we also happen to die around this time. Now we can just slip into the place of our dead selves in this reality and everything will be fine. We're not skipping a beat, Morty. Now, help me with these bodies.”

“We should get the Meeseeks to clean up the blood,” Phoebe blurted tonelessly, still not quite herself. A part of her clinically noted that she might be dissociating. 

“That’s a good idea, Phoebe, good thinking.”

Numbly she walked over to the shelf, her movements robotic, and got the box down. She pressed the button twice and two Meeseeks appeared, complete with the usual greeting. “Clean up the blood,” she said in an emotionless monotone. “Don’t make a lot of noise. Don’t let anyone see you. When you’re done, take anything with blood on it that can’t be cleaned off and use the vaporizer on it. It’s this one—” Phoebe pointed it out.

Morty, who had been watching her in growing horror, and Rick, who was looking at her intently and with great interest, both watched as the Meeseeks got to work.

“This is insane, Rick,” Morty said as numbly as she felt.

Rick, trying to be the voice of reason, said, “Look, Morty, I'll grab myself, you grab yourself, Phoebe grabs herself, okay? I mean, t-t-t-that seems fair to me I mean, that seems like a fair way to divvy it up.”

“Rick, what about the reality we left behind?”

“Burned,” Phoebe said absentmindedly as she walked over and stared down at her dead body.

“What about the reality where Hitler cured cancer, Morty? The answer is don't think about it. It's not like we can do this every week, anyways. We get three or four more of these, tops. Now, pick up your dead self and come on. Haste makes waste. I-I-I don't suppose you've considered this detail, but obviously, if I hadn't screwed up as much as I did, we'd be these guys right now, so, again, you're welcome.”

Somehow Phoebe kept making her body move. She made her legs walk, she made her back bend and her arms swoop and her hands grasp. She dug a grave for her dead self while Rick and Morty did the same beside her. Together they tipped their bodies into the waiting holes in the earth. Rick then quickly started to grow dirt over his dead self, but Phoebe stopped him. “Wait,” she said quietly, almost too quiet for him to hear. The rushing in her ears and the fog in her head were abating somewhat, and she no longer felt as nauseous or dizzy. She was starting to accept it, she thought absently, although everything still felt surreal. It would be as if nothing had changed, and yet everything had. To see such familiar surroundings, such familiar faces, and for nothing to be discernibly different and yet actually be totally different…They were all in for a bit of a mindfuck. Rick paused, shovel held out over his grave with his next shovel-full of dirt. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

She laid her shovel down and picked up a handful of dirt. “Here lies Phoebe Johnson, biochemist, inventor, fencer, and lover of Harry Potter and red velvet cupcakes. May she Rest in Peace.” She let the dirt fall, then picked up another handful and stood by Morty. She took one of his limp hands in her own. “Morty,” she whispered. “It’ll help. Let yourself mourn.” She pressed dirt into his hand. “Here lies Morty Smith, beloved nephew, son, brother, and grandson, lover of Snuffles the dog and ice cream. You say it this time, Morty.” She coaxed him to do it while Rick watched, then she finally moved to Rick’s side.

“I’m not doing the stupid ritual,” he said. “It’s pointless and sentimental garbage.”

Phoebe looked up at Rick, directly into his uncanny silvery eyes, with dirt smudged on her cheek and flecked on her lab coat. Something dark, something _haunted_, lived there. Had he been forced to do this before? Maybe that’s why he was so jaded now. “It might be sentimental, Rick, but it’s far from pointless. It’s for closure, so we can grieve and let this go. We might be the ones who survived physically, but our old life is dead, it’s gone, it’s not coming back. We were uprooted. We have to acknowledge that if we want to move on.”

She expected him to resist her anyway, especially after how he acted in the parking lot earlier in their doomed reality, but when she pried one of his hands off of his shovel and held it in her own, pressing dirt into his palm, he didn’t pull away. His uncanny eyes we riveted to her. “Here lies Rick Sanchez,” she said softly, “beloved friend, father, grandfather, and ex-husband. Lover of science and adventure, and a damn brilliant inventor.”

“I’m not saying, the words,” he said.

Phoebe shrugged. “Okay. It’s your funeral.” _Oh gods did she really?_ Maybe she’d be back to normal sooner than she thought she would be.

Rick cracked a dark smile then allowed Phoebe use of his hand to release the handful of dirt over the other Rick. His hand lingered in hers before he pulled away. “All right, let’s finish burying these losers,” he said in a bright voice. “They’re not getting any deader.”

Phoebe almost grinned. Rick did. “And she’s back,” he said, and some of the haunted-ness washed away from them both.

When they finished covering up the bodies they trooped into the now-clean garage. Arguing could be heard behind the door. “We should go through the front. They shouldn’t see us this filthy,” Phoebe reasoned. “They might ask questions.” They exited the garage and went into the house through the front door. It was scary how the hide-a-key was in the same exact place by the door in the same ugly-ass little gnome. Really—same ugly brown shoes, green pants, blue shirt, pointy red hat, and scrunched up face. She looked at Morty. “You go and shower first, Morty. Try not to take too long.” He mumbled something but acquiesced, walking despondently up the stairs. Phoebe waited until he was out of hearing rage to say something to Rick. “If you don’t bury the dead or your secrets properly, Rick, they haunt you,” she said, not looking at him. “You should shower too.”

She started up the steps without looking down at him. If she’d glanced back, she might have been intrigued by what she saw.


	13. The Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a ton going on physically in this chapter. It’s mostly dialogue, some feels if you know where to look, and set-up for the next two chapters. Jerry makes an ass of himself, Rick gloats inside, Phoebe makes eggs.

_March_

There was dirt underneath her fingernails. She’d chosen not to wear gloves because gloves dulled the sensation of earth on her palms and she wanted sensations to ground her. The last week she’d only walked the house barefoot, taken hotter showers and eaten spicier food. The day was cloudy, the sun barely kissing the top of her head. She dug, planted, watered.

This expanse of grass would be part of a garden someday. There would be herbs nearer the back door, and further up there would be vegetables and things, like tomatoes and cucumbers. She’d planted a small peach tree in the corner, and here there would be flowers just for show. She couldn’t _only _plant over their bodies, because it would look odd to have a garden grow only in the shape of a grave, and people might think they were serial killers.

The second day after they buried their own bodies, Phoebe thought about a garden. The third day she took measurements of the yard before class, then jotted down ideas all day and the next. The fifth she’d spent planning it out spatially, then finally she’d started buying all the things she needed on the next. Today she’d gotten up before her usual time to start working on it, thankful not to have business on campus so she could begin her work. Phoebe had been out since the early morning, long before the sun rose above the horizon. When she was done, there would be the skeleton of a garden.

The sliding glass door opened. The sound of feet on grass, a soft shuffle, then a tall shadow fell over her. “What the hell are you—” _belch_ “—doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Phoebe said without looking up at Rick. Phoebe could practically feel Rick’s scowl even if she couldn’t see it.

“Why?” Rick seemed genuinely puzzled on top of not seeing the purpose or usefulness of gardening in general.

Phoebe hesitated. “You’ll think it’s silly since it’s not for any scientific reason.”

“You’re probably right,” Rick agreed.

Phoebe decided to tell him anyway. “I wanted some life out here to balance the death. It’s also a practical thing to do on top of being an enjoyable hobby.”

Phoebe looked up at him at last when he didn’t respond immediately. He was standing directly behind and to the left of her looking down at her. Instead of his flask he had an entire bottle of vodka in one hand, the top screwed off as if he’d been drinking from it non-stop. “It’s also a good way to work out my grief instead of trying to drown it,” she said, very deliberately looking between him and the bottle.

Rick scowled. “Whatever. I’ll be in the garage. Come in when you’re finished.”

Phoebe sighed and wiped her filthy hands on her worn jeans, the one she used for cleaning and painting and now for gardening, she supposed. “I’m pretty much done anyway. Nothing more I can do now, and that’s everything I wanted to put out.” She bent to pick up a few things to put in the shed. “What did you have planned?”

“A little outing, later, but right now, work on a new project,” Rick said, not offering more details at the moment.

“All right. I won’t be long,” Phoebe assured him. “I just need to put my equipment up and then shower.”

Rick nodded, looked at the place where she knew their bodies were, and tipped the bottle to his lips. “Don’t—” _belch _“—take too long,” he said once he lowered it.

He left her alone, and Phoebe set about storing her tools and getting ready. It didn’t take her long to get clean and dressed, and soon she was going down the stairs humming softly to herself. Phoebe snagged an apple for each of them from the counter on her way through the kitchen to the garage. When she walked through the door, it was to the sight of Rick leafing through her journal of ideas for future projects.

“Rude,” she said, but only after first taking a minute to stand and simply stare at him: at his long, deft fingers turning the pages, his nails short and his fingertips calloused; at that wild blue hair of his, sticking up in every direction as per usual; at his equine legs, slender and long like a racehorse; at the way his silvery eyes tracked over the pages in her journal, sharp, hungry, quick; at his pursed lips, which though thin looked softer now somehow; at the way the lab coat hung off of his frame. She would never have called him an ugly man, but neither would she have described him as conventionally desirable—but, she noted, he was quite handsome in his own way. Sure of himself, talented, highly intelligent, and more caring than he’d ever admit. It was obvious to her that Rick’s life had made him the jaded and cynical man before her, and yet she could tell that some part of him was still affected by the Cronenberg genetic apocalypse. You didn’t fall to the bottom of a bottle of hard liquor because you just felt so damn good about things, you did it to drown out the things that wounded you, to smother your problems the way they smothered you.

She cleared her throat and fully entered the garage.

“You could have just asked you know. I don’t mind sharing my notes with you.”

“Where’s the—” _belch _“—where’s the fun in that, Phoebe?”

Phoebe rolled her eyes, coming to a stop by his side and glancing down at her open journal in his hands. He’d stopped at the section on her ideas about the creation and integration of nanotechnology, specifically nanobots, in biological systems for purposes of healing injuries to a wounded party. “I was going to bring them up eventually,” she said, “they’re not something I could work on alone. I have the biological and chemical knowledge, but not the technological knowledge. That’s where you come in.”

“What makes you think I want to—” _belch _“— work on something so—” _belch “—_something like that?”

Phoebe shrugged one shoulder. “You’re the one thumbing through my notes, Rick, you tell me.”

“Quickest way to discover your current interests.”

“Quicker than asking me? It’s not like I’d lie.”

“Everyone lies, Phoebe, and everyone screws up now and again—the Cronenberg mess case in point. The two constants of the universe.”

One of Phoebe’s eyebrows tilted into a slant. “What an inspiring proverb. Cheers, Rick.”

“Anyone who believes otherwise is either an idiot or painfully naive.” Rick said as he closed her journal and laid it on the table.

“You’re right,” Phoebe said, picking up a sonic detonator—a device that let out waves of ear-splitting sounds only within the hearing range of certain alien species (such as Gromflomites)—that Rick had taken apart with her to help her get better with manipulating tech. They’d reconstructed it together, though Phoebe did most of the physical work with Rick guiding her through it and telling her the various functions of each part. “Blind faith in a perfect world where people always tell the truth and don’t make mistakes is the height of naïveté. But leaning in to earned trust isn’t. It’s a practical application of trust that’s been built between two people through experience. It's how you know I won’t turn around and stick one of my knives into you instead of our enemies.”

Rick took the sonic detonator out of her hands, his fingers brushing against her skin. “A third constant is that people will always inevitably disappoint you,” Rick said, turning the detonator over and over in his hands. He leaned against the work table, his hip pressed into the edge as his arms crossed. “Some of the ones who disappoint you will betray you.”

“Some will, some won’t,” Phoebe disagreed, crossing her own arms. “Some people are loyal and honest to a fault—”

“—and some people would sell their own mother down the river for a single crust of bread, Phee. Most people are in-between: honest sometimes, loyal when it suits them, which brings us back to our constants: everyone lies, everyone screws up, and everyone will, at some point, disappoint you.”

“I can see where your sunny disposition comes from,” Phoebe replied sarcastically. “No wonder you’re such a delight. You’re filled with such hope and faith.”

Rick’s lips twitched but he said nothing more about his ‘constants’, merely twisting around for something just behind and to the left of him. He straightened back around and thrust a page filled with sketches and notes at her. “Fuck you. Anyway, I—” _belch _“—I started working on the tech part of your stupid nanobots.”

Phoebe tried not to laugh and only just succeeded. She couldn’t stop her smirk, though she did manage to pull it into a deadpan after a moment to say, “I thought you didn’t want to work on something like this?”

Rick glared at her. “Do you want the damn things or not?”

Phoebe rolled her eyes and accepted the notes, eyes scanning over his untidy scrawl faster and faster as she read on. “I definitely needed you,” she muttered, catching his smug smirk in her periphery. She matched his smirk without looking up. If Morty had been in the garage he might have noted how eerily similar to each other they appeared, like reflections in mirrors. “If we put our heads together we might have something viable by this afternoon.”

“Are you—are you kidding, Phoebe? We can do this in two hours,” Rick challenged.

Phoebe eyed him. “Three, and you’re on.”

XXX

With their combined genius they had something viable in the two and a half hours, then spent five minutes arguing over whose estimate was actually closer. They were still arguing when they entered the kitchen for lunch. It was a school day, so Summer and Morty weren’t at home, and Beth was at work. Even though almost a month had passed by, she had forgotten about Jerry being fired from his advertising job, and therefore that he would be at home. He mostly lurked in his man cave/ “office” when not looking for and applying to jobs, though he’d taken on more housework when Beth subtly brought it up to him. They’d mostly avoided him, both versions of him, since that fateful day in early January. Today, however, they would not be so lucky. He was making himself a sandwich, the materials spread across the counter, but he looked up when they came from their session of experimentation. His eyes darted between them, settling on Rick as he scowled.

“Afternoon, Phoebe.” Jerry passive-aggressively glowered, eyes narrowed. “I see you’ve been busy.”

At her side Rick smirked.

“Yeah, we’ve been working on another project,” Phoebe said with forced cheer, determined not to allow the situation to escalate into a fight between Jerry and Rick—if anyone could even call it that. Usually it was a one-sided struggle that ended in slaughter, with Rick’s smooth sarcasm and biting remarks often flying over Jerry’s head. He understood the tone and body language enough to know he was being sneered at, but he couldn’t keep up with Rick.

“Have you thought about spending more time away from the house?” Jerry said as he spread mayonnaise onto one side of his bread. “I know you have a few friends from the University. Maybe you could go out with them more often? It’s not normal for someone your age to spend so much time on your own.”

“I’m not alone, I’m with Rick,” she pointed out, going to the fridge to pull out the egg carton. She handed it to Rick and reached for the milk.

“That’s part of the problem. I don’t want Rick to hold you back from having more of a social life,” Jerry continued. He pressed the top slice of bread onto the waiting mound of meat covering the bottom slice, raised it to his mouth and sank his teeth into it. Rick was surprisingly quiet, though he watched the two siblings converse with keen interest.

Phoebe’s fingers faltered on the handle as she turned her head to stare at Jerry. “I don’t see it as a problem, Jerry. There aren’t any rules saying all of my friends have to be my same age and gender.”

Jerry swallowed and chuckled nervously. “I know that. I’m just saying maybe you should...expand your social circle, maybe get some variety in what you do outside of lectures and lab work.”

Phoebe straightened up and faced Jerry with a scowl of her own. “Jerry, there’s nothing wrong with my social life. I can spend as much time as I like with whoever I want to.”

“But does it have to be with Rick?” Jerry whined. “I’m just saying…”

Phoebe huffed in annoyance. “Oh, I know what you’re _just saying_, Jerry, and as much as I love you, this is me asking you to butt out.”

“I’m just worried about you!” Jerry burst in, clearly not knowing when enough was enough.

“And I appreciated that,” Phoebe forced her voice not to rise higher like it wanted to. “Noted, really. But I’m not a little girl, Jerry. I know you missed out on a lot of years of being an older brother, but I can honestly say I can take care of myself. If I want to go out with different people, I will, but right now I want to spend my time with Rick working on our projects.”

Jerry looked as if he’d swallowed a whole lemon. “I see he’s gotten to you, too,” Jerry said. 

“Oh please, Jerry, it’s nothing so sinister. We’re friends and we work well together, that’s all.”

“That’s what worries me,” Jerry said.

“Well stop,” Phoebe hissed, finally losing her patience, grabbing the milk and slamming it down on the counter.

“Fine,” Jerry muttered. “I was just trying to look out for you.” He snagged a bag of chips out of the cabinets and was gone, from the sound of it to his office.

Phoebe let out a frustrated sound as she put away the items he left out and pulled out a pan, butter, salt, and pepper. Soon she had scrambled eggs cooking, absentmindedly coaxing them to be fluffy and light before scooping the steaming mass onto a waiting plate. Phoebe, still feeling a little agitated from her fight with Jerry, got the bread back out for toast and muttered, “You were noticeably quiet during that family discussion.”

Rick, who had eaten lunch meat straight out of the pack then grabbed a banana from the fruit basket and peeled it as he leaned against the counter, shrugged. “Once I saw where it was going, I knew he would talk himself into hole.”

“Still, you’re usually the first to criticize Jerry or jump in to shame him or make him feel like a fool.” Phoebe heaped her still warm eggs onto her buttered toast, staring at Rick contemplatively. “Then again, maybe you knew things would go over better if you didn’t come off as controlling as Jerry did.” She shook her head and bit into her own sandwich, gesturing at the leftover egg on her plate. “Have some.”

Rick didn’t pass up the opportunity for more food. He was likely as starved as her. She knew she would need more than her sandwich to fill her up, maybe some Pringles and an apple.

Rick got a fork out of the kitchen drawer and stabbed it into some of the remaining egg. “Maybe, or maybe I know Jerry well enough to know he’s an idiot who would stick his foot in his mouth sooner or later.” _And the more Jerry tried to keep them apart, the more she would resent him for it. Rick could sit back without doing any work, because Jerry would push them together and make her even more adamant in their friendship_, she thought. _Not a bad plan at all._ She couldn’t even call it manipulative, since it wasn’t some diabolical plot of his. It wasn’t some grand machination to get them together, not like with Morty and the Mega Seeds. It was half common sense and half an understanding of human psychology, and even though she could see it for what it was she didn’t care. She didn’t need pressure from Jerry to make her lean into her friendship or make her feel closer to Rick. The truth was that she and Rick spent more time together and had more in common than she and Jerry had in the first place. She still made an effort to have brother-sister time, and she never looked down on him for his limitations the way Rick did, but there was a definite difference in what each of them offered. Jerry might be family, but Rick was Rick, and she would stick with him no matter how much Jerry whined, howled, or despaired.

“He hates you anyway, but he hates it even more that we’re close,” she said as she finished her sandwich and reached around him for an apple. Their sides pressed together very briefly and her stomach did something odd. She frowned down at her apple as she pulled away from the basket. She brushed it off and bit into the yellow-green flesh. “We should make more,” she said around a mouthful of golden delicious. “If you’re still hungry. You can get the bread ready and grab the chips, and I’ll scramble some more eggs.”

Once they’d assembled more food, they cleaned up and took the food with them into the dining room.

They worked their way through half of the fresh batch of eggs and toast before Rick spoke. “I need a device for something else I’m working on.”

Phoebe swallowed two gulps of orange juice. “All right, I’ll bite. What is it?”

“I need a defraculator,” Rick said, snatching up a chip between thumb and forefinger. “We’ll need to go to an off-planet pawnshop for it. We can go grab Morty first then start looking.”

“Sounds good,” she said, reaching for chips herself. She and Rick tried taking the same cluster of five chips, and their hands touched. That odd sensation returned, but she pushed it down, worried she was coming down with something. “You take it,” she said, scooping up a different cluster to the right instead. Rick eyed her but didn’t comment. They wrapped up lunch in silence that lasted until they were in the space cruiser and on the way to Morty’s school.


	14. From Puberty to Fatherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty done fucked up. Summer has an adventure with Rick and Phoebe...sort of, if being kidnapped counts.

_March, same day_

As Phoebe scanned the shelves she could hear Rick and the pawnshop owner haggling over the device he wanted.

“Look, I'm not paying seventy smidgens for a broken defraculator,” Rick argued.

“That is multiphase quantum resonator,” the owner argued back.

“Spoken like someone with no imagination,” Phoebe countered softly as she examined an android meant to aid a space-faring crew. It was tall, humanoid, and androgynous-looking.

“Well, does it defraculate?” Rick retorted, clearly as irritated with the man as Phoebe was.

“Fuck no,” the alien snapped.

“Then —then —then it's a broken defraculator,” Rick insisted.

They clearly weren’t getting anywhere, and Rick and the owner kept arguing the same things in circles. She’d already searched the rest of the store, and apart from the helper android and a few weapons they could modify, she hadn’t come up with anything else they’d find remotely useful. She drug the android to the other end of the counter with her, having decided to ask about the android’s personality chip—more than a mere memory card, such as in the case of an SD card, a personality chip was an integrated circuit containing data information of an android that allowed it to form thoughts of its own, experience emotions, and have a working memory—when the owner exploded, “Like you would even know dick about fraculation! Your planet just got cellphones, and the coverage still sucks!”

“Yeah, yeah, and your species eat sulfur, so, let's say sixty smidgens, I tell you what—I'll do you a favor, I'll throw in a fart.”

Phoebe cut in as she stepped toward them with her prize, “Where’s the personality chip for this auxiliary android?”

Rick and the pawnshop owner broke off their argument, both looking at her. “In the safe,” he said emotionlessly.

“How much?” Phoebe jerked her thumb at the android, “for both.”

The pawnshop owner appraised her in a way that made her want to bathe for five days. A nasty glint entered Rick’s eyes when he saw the hungry, obviously lecherous gaze. “For you, I would sell it for twenty-five smidgens.”

“And what if I buy the multiphase quantum resonator?” Phoebe nodded at the device sitting innocently on the counter.

The shop owner smiled nastily, openly leering at her. “For you, I would be willing to sell it for forty smidgens.”

Before either Rick or Phoebe could speak, Morty came up to Rick, speaking more nervously than usual, his eyes focused on anything but Rick, Phoebe, or the sleazy alien behind the counter. “Hey, uh, Rick, um, you think maybe I could get something from this place, like a souvenir, like, just to have—like, something cool, you know?”

“Not here, Morty. We'll stop somewhere else,” Rick dismissed, clearly not wanting to deal with the owner of the current one, “because, you know, there's always another pawnshop.” He gestured, waving his hands in an odd half-circle as he did. The pawnshop owner rolled his eyes, then eyed Phoebe again.

“Oh, okay,” Morty deflated for a moment, then tried a new track. “I just, um—you know, I thought that robot over there looked pretty cool, you know?”

Rick’s eyes cut to the back corner. “Oh, it looks cool, huh? That's why you want it?” His raised eyebrow and tone of voice drew Phoebe’s eyes away from her own find to what was very obviously a sex robot of some kind.

“Yeah! You know, I mean, it's different from the stuff on earth, and, you know, you take me to all these crazy places across the galaxy, and, you know, I don't really have anything to—to remember all those trips by, it'd be kind of cool, like a souvenir, you know—” Rick, who had finally stopped glaring between Morty and the sexbot, walked to the door to go out, then hung back in annoyance as Morty kept babbling, “like, what if you passed away or died or something? I wouldn't even have anything to remember all the cool stuff we did, you know?” Phoebe put her head down and bit her lip to keep from howling in laughter. Morty was just trying _so hard_ and it was hilarious.

To Phoebe’s surprise Rick caved, pulling out his wallet to remove a few bright pink bills. “Okay—” _belch _“—I’ll—” _belch _“—I’ll pay her tab, here’s sixty for the resonator and the android my friend wants, and my grandson wants the sex robot.”

Morty froze in shock, eyes wide, clearly not expecting to be caught out. The poor boy looked mortified, so Phoebe cleared her throat and asked for the personality chip. She tried to avoid letting any of her skin touch the greasy-looking alien man’s as he dropped it into her palm. “Enjoy,” he grinned, gaze sliding over her once again. Phoebe’s lips thinned into a flat, vague, polite line. She nodded, pocketing the chip and hoisting the android up to carry in her arms bridal style.

“Rick, you can help Morty with his glorified sex doll,” she said, “I’ll be in the cruiser.”

Rick scowled at her. “I’m not touching that thing. Morty can bring it himself.” He marched out of the shop with his device in hand. 

Phoebe shrugged, readjusting her android as she followed him. “Tough luck kid,” she said over her shoulder, “Try not to take forever.”

In the window she could see Morty eyeing the sexbot with subdued excitement as he approached it and tried to wrestle it into a comfortable carrying position. He someone managed to get it across his shoulders, and then he was stumbling out after her.

This ought to be interesting.

XXX

“I think I’m gonna name this beauty here Gwendolyn,” Morty murmured absentmindedly as he stroked the sex robot with affection.

Phoebe, who sat in the back fiddling with the android, blanched. Did Morty have to do that in front of them? It was bad enough knowing what he would do with it later. 

“I wonder if the android has a name already,” Phoebe tried to change the subject to something far less awkward than the mechanical sex doll Morty would be going at it with later. “It could have just gone by a unit number, you know.”

“Just don’t name it Gwendolyn,” Morty murmured, still having eyes only for the robot.

Phoebe shuddered. “Believe me, I definitely won’t.”

The trip back home mercifully ended without further discussion of Morty’s new masturbation aid, and the boy himself practically ran from the cruiser as soon as it touched down and the doors could be opened. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later, okay Rick, Phoebe?” He bounded up the stairs without waiting for a response, and a few moments later she heard his bedroom door slam.

“Rick, how about we examine the android?” Phoebe proposed.

“Why not,” Rick grumbled.

This couldn’t possibly get any weirder.

The two of them retreated to the garage with the android. Rick cleared a large area for her, and Phoebe laid it down gently. She grabbed a nearby tool and opened the panel for the personality chip, which she inserted into its slot. She’d examined it for damage before they left, so it should work just fine. The android seemed to be in relatively good condition as well, and would only need a little tuning rather than extensive repairs.

It took a moment, but eventually it booted up out of deep sleep. Its eyes opened, staring straight into hers, then swiveled to look at Rick. “You have awakened me,” it spoke, and okay, the voice was definitely feminine-coded. The android must have universal translation technology.

Phoebe licked her lips and nodded. “Yes. Whoever had you before sold you to a pawnshop. We bought you today. I am called Phoebe, and this is Rick.”

The android blinked at them wordlessly.

“Do you have a name?” Phoebe prompted. “Or do you go by your unit number?”

“I had a name once,” the android replied, then spoke a strange name with odd syllables, one obviously in an alien tongue. “But I would like a new one.”

“How about…” Phoebe glanced at Rick, who was watching the android impassively. “Edana. Do you like that?”

The android let out a happy-sounding trill. “Edana. Yes. Thank you.”

Phoebe smiled. “Good. We need to run through some diagnostics with you and examine your programming, but I promise we’ll run through it as quickly and painlessly as possible.

“I cannot feel physical pain,” Edana replied, “But appreciate your consideration.”

“All right,” Rick said impatiently, “let’s get started already.”

XXX

This time Phoebe resented being wrong. Things _most definitely_ got weirder in regards to the damn sexbot. It was the day after their pawnshop excursion and Morty hadn’t emerged from his room for more than five minute intervals—mostly to grab a snack or hit the restroom. She and Rick sat with the remaining three Smiths at the breakfast table. The ceiling overhead creaked and the overhead lamp swayed.

Summer, who seemed faintly like she might be sick, blurted, “So, we're just going to pretend this isn't happening? I'm not saying that's a bad idea—just asking.”

Jerry sighed and put down his utensils, turning his head to glare at Rick. “Rick, why would you let Morty bring that thing into our house?!”

“I don't know, what do you want from me? He thi—he thou—he thou—he th—he thought it looked cool, you know what I mean?” He sounded like he couldn’t care less. On the last word, though, he glanced sideways at Phoebe, who sat next to him, and added, “Why are you on my case anyway? Phoebe was there and _she_ didn’t stop him.”

Phoebe glared at Rick. “Way to throw me under the bus, Rick!”

Just then Morty entered the kitchen, preventing Jerry, whose mouth had opened, from saying anything. The teen was in his underwear, bare-chested and barefoot, sweat dripping down his body. “Whew!” Morty exclaimed, grabbing the orange juice and gulping down several mouthfuls straight from the carton. Rick cut his eyes at him while he continued to eat calmly. Jerry stared openly. Phoebe tried not to look at him at all.

“Uahh,” he sighed as he set the carton down. “All right, back to—back to—b-back upstairs.” He ran off, his bare feet slapping on the wooden floor. His footsteps drew away from them, followed by the distant closing of his room door. The creaking overhead began anew.

Jerry pushed himself resolutely to his feet. “Well, I'm intervening.”

“Intervening with puberty?” Beth said in exasperation, “You'll turn him into Ralph Fiennes in ‘Red Dragon’. He's at that age, let's just be proud of him.”

“Wow,” Phoebe muttered. “Lowered expectations means anything is an accomplishment I guess.”

Summer had a related but different train of thought. “Jesus, did I really set the bar that low?”

“Trust me, Summer, it’s not you.” Phoebe placated “I think she’s just happy he’s normal, teenage horniness and all.”

Thumping feet, then Morty appeared on the stairs. “Um, Rick, Phoebe, could you come with me, please—q-quickly?” He ran off again, no doubt to his room.

Phoebe and Rick leapt to their feet and ran to follow Morty. Phoebe heard Beth remark behind them, “Okay, now if we hear squeaking, we intervene.”

Phoebe gagged. She would _never_ do anything with Morty!

They reached the doorway of his room to see a pink orb flying around the room as it made a strange sound. Morty had reentered the room, and Phoebe stood just behind Rick, looking around him at the odd sight.

“Where's the sex robot, Morty?” Rick looked around for it.

Phoebe had a sinking feeling she knew _exactly_ where the damn robot had gone as she and Rick entered the room.

“That _is_ Gwendolyn—I-I mean, the robot!” He yelled, proving her assumption correct. She really did hate being right sometimes. “She started beeping and then transformed and tried to fly away!”

“Well, this can only turn out well,” Phoebe snarked.

Rick rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “Strange—that's usually the man's job, you know what I'm talking about, Morty? Wubba-lubba-dub-dub!”

He chuckled, but stopped when Phoebe said, deadpan, “Yeah, that’s called being a fuckboy. Are you deadass? You didn’t think that was funny, did you?”

Rick scowled and didn’t respond to her. “Morty that's my catchphrase, remember? Remember—remember how I—how I cemented that catchphrase?”

“Oh my gods not this again! We have bigger problems than your catchphrase,” she snapped.

“Says the woman whose catchphrase is every variation of the word ‘fuck’ in four languages,” Rick shot back. “That takes way less creativity.” When he saw her face, he said, “All right, all right, seriously, though, let me grab this thing.”

He pushed Morty behind him and threw himself at the now spherical robot, grunting as he tried to hold onto it. “Come on, you rascal!” It thumped him on the bed a few times and he had nothing to show for it except being drug around like a rag doll.

Barely a minute elapsed before Beth, Jerry, and Summer appeared in the doorway. “Okay, unacceptable!” she scolded just as Rick lost his grasp on the robot. “Oh,” she gasped a moment later.

“What is going on?” Jerry called.

A small circular opening on the bottom of the sphere slid open and a small, slime-covered _something_ slid out and into Morty’s waiting arms.

“All right, uh-oh,” Rick said, and Phoebe glanced at him sharply.

“‘Uh-oh’?” Beth yelled, “What is that?!” Beth gestured at the small creature, the _baby_, in Morty’s hands.

“I’m pretty sure it’s an infant,” Phoebe muttered, edging closer. The robot drifted over to Morty’s bed, morphed back into its original form and fell down onto the covers.

“Hmm, I think Morty's robot was designed for more than long weekends,” Rick commented. Said robot crawled over to him, and he deactivated it and popped open a panel above its abdomen to peek inside. “Genetic compiler, incubation chamber—yep, this here's some kind of baby maker, and that there's—” he gestured over at Morty and the baby— “half Morty, half—” _belch_ “—who—who the hell knows—” _belch _“Wh-what? It's my bad, guys, I'll—I'll take care of it.” And with that he drew out the vaporizer and aimed it at the tiny, red, many-armed infant held in Morty’s arms.

Immediately, Beth, Jerry, and Summer all jumped between Rick and his target, and Morty turned his body so that it was sheltering the young alien hybrid. A flurry of yelling broke out, their voices overlapping:

“Grandpa Rick, no, no!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

“Dad, what do you think you're doing?!”

Phoebe stepped behind Rick, one arm sliding over Rick’s, her hand curling over top of his. “Rick,” she said cautiously. “No. Let’s stop and think first.” She could count the times they’d touched deliberately on one hand. Mostly their fingers brushed when they exchanged tools or devices, but on her list of deliberate attempts was her relieved hug when their original world ended, when Rick had carried her on his back, and of course at their funeral. His lab coat and sweater hid the lean muscles she could now feel—muscles she’d been too angry or terrified to notice when they were scaling down a cliff side or running from angry guards during their first adventure. The strange sensation that she’d felt before surged again, but she viciously stomped it down. She could _not_ get sick while trying to keep Rick from murdering his half-alien great-grandchild!

With a sigh Rick relaxed his grip on the weapon. He shook her off and waved it around idly, his gestures growing wilder as he started in on a rant. "Hey, listen—you guys quarantined the house when Summer brought olives back from Mexico, I mean, this thing could grow to the size of Delaware, I mean, it might eat brains and exhale space aids, we gotta be careful.”

Morty stepped forward with the child, directly in front of Rick. “I lost the chance to be careful, Rick, I'm a father now!”

Phoebe nodded along to Morty’s words. “That’s right, accountability, Morty, an important lesson.”

Morty grinned, though she could tell it was more for the child still in his arms. “You know, it's time for me to be responsible, isn't that right…”

“Don't name it,” Rick cut in, waving his hand in a _knock it off_ motion.

“...Morty Jr?” Morty continued as if Rick hadn’t spoken.

“Oh, crap, He named it,” Rick groaned, slumping. 

Phoebe patted his back in mock consolation. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll still try to get rid of it, name or no name.”

Rick threw a glare at her over his shoulder as he tucked the vaporizer into his lab coat.

“Well, dad, it's a living thing, and it's half human,” Beth admonished.

“And it was born on American soil, which entitles it to—” began Jerry, probably trying to sound smart.

Beth cut him off with a hand on his shoulder and a savage reply of, “Jerry, majoring in Civics was your mistake, don't punish for it.”

Rick drug his hands down his face, apparently done with them all. “Fine, I'm gonna take this thing to my workshop and do a little bit of investigating,” he growled, picking up ‘Gwendolyn’ and carrying her to the door. He stopped to speak directly to Morty. “Do not let that thing out of your sight. It looks harmless now, but it could grow into something dangerous.”

“With our luck it’s secretly the spawn of Cthulhu,” Phoebe remarked as she made to follow him.

“Like the insane clown posse,” Jerry said at the same time.

“Yeah, Good one, Jerry, 2003 just called, it wants its easy target back,” Rick sneered. 

Phoebe looked back and waved at him. “You know where to find us if you need us.” On the stairs she said to Rick, “What are you thinking?”

“Well, if our stupid family won’t let me kill the little monster I have to get rid of it another way.”

“We’re not abandoning it somewhere,” she told him sharply.

“Oh, god, don’t get all maternal rage on me,” Rick sneered, “I was suggesting adopting it out to its own kind—you know, whatever the hell it’s mixed with. It had to come from somewhere.”

“Don’t make me push you down the rest of these stairs,” Phoebe muttered dangerously. “This isn’t a gender thing. No one else wants you to off or ditch him either.”

“Yeah, well, nearly everyone else here is an idiot. I didn’t expect you to side with them, I expected you to act a bit more rationally.”

“Well I for one think it’s rational to not want to commit infanticide,” Phoebe snapped as they hit the last step and turned into the kitchen.

“You’ll think it’s the most rational thing in the world after it tries to eat your face off,” Rick snapped back, kicking on the door. “Edana, open the door!”

The sound of light footsteps, then the lock clicked and the door swung open. Edana stood there, mechanical fingers curved over the knob. She trilled happily. “Phoebe! Rick!” She stood to the side to give them room to pass by. “Is that a robot meant for reproduction?” Edana walked over curiously. Her programmed personality was highly curious, intended to be helpful and caring. They could tell from the chip, though, that the previous owner had done some modifications, so she was a bit more cheerful, empathetic, and sensitive than originally intended, making her chip more unique than those running on their initial settings.

“Yeah, it’s a sex robot with reproduction technology,” Phoebe replied, “Rick is gonna crack it open and see where it came from so we can know the origins of the kid that it created with Morty.”

Edana made an excited-interested noise and stood angled so she could see Rick at work.

“I have no idea why you treat the android like it’s a person,” Rick said as he laid ‘Gwendolyn’ down on the table in the space that had previously been occupied by Edana. He opened the front panel of the sexbot again, then started probing around with his tools.

“She basically is. Her personality chip has been altered to be more unique—I’d say, given how non-standard her responses and reactions are, that she was modeled after someone, maybe a lost family member, friend, or crewmate, though gods knows how she then ended up in a pawnshop, and she can’t tell us because her memory was wiped.”

“All of her feelings are manufactured and pre-set,” Rick boredly disagreed. “She’s a toaster that’s been programmed to cry, nothing more.”

“All of her feelings are based on whoever she was meant to emulate,” Phoebe argued. “She reacts and thinks how that person would have, making her emotions and ideas real.”

The entire time, Edana’s head whipped back and forth between them as they spoke, following what had quickly become an old argument. They’d already had similar debates twice before in the single night they’d had her with them.

“So your best defense is that she’s a mechanical clone,” Rick sneered as he removed one leg and the head of ‘Gwendolyn’.

“If that still means she’s a person, then yes. She’s more sentient than that weird breeding machine you’re taking apart right now, at any rate,” Phoebe replied. “She can think and feel for herself, as long as it’s within the bounds of her personality. I’d argue that human beings are the same way. All of us act and react based on the ways our brains are wired, and our brains themselves are programmed—maybe not quite so literally, but by genetics, by our environment, by our experiences, our cultures, our religions. We’re not that different. Our brain is just—it’s just a huge organic circuit board. In fact, have you heard of NeuroGrid? It’s supposed to be a circuit board made here on Earth that’s modeled after the human brain.” Phoebe realized she’d been waving her arms around more expressively than even Rick tended to. She scowled down at herself and sat on her hands to try to keep them from moving.

Rick wasn’t even looking at her as he continued to prise apart and inspect different parts of the robot. Phoebe moodily moved in to help him, turning over discarded parts in her hands and looking at the wiring of the bot. She hadn’t seen nearly as much alien tech as he had, but there might be a small insignia or symbol that he’d missed on first glance. “What are you thinking?” Phoebe murmured.

“That I’m going to hook it up to the scanner that’s already hooked up to my laptop and do a diagnostic scan, and that you should get your spare dress out of the cruiser and change into it to save time if we need to grab the kid and leave.”

Phoebe did just that, retrieving it from the back and pulling her shirt off when she stepped behind the privacy screen that they’d shoved into the corner for any emergency changing that took place in the garage. She unzipped the dress, a plain soot gray, and carefully stepped into it, gently shimmying it up her body. As Edana zipped her up (something she could do on her own, but which took longer), the door opened and closed, and she realized it hadn’t been locked after they came in. Peeking around the edge of the partition, she saw Summer walking across the room to Rick.

“Whatcha doin'? And Where’s Phoebe?”

“Here,” Phoebe called, stepping into view.

“Well, I can't solve the problem my way, thanks to your family's primitive biological hang-ups—” his hand slipped, and he gave the robot a disgusted glare. “gross, I might have just touched one of Morty's loads—but maybe I can find suitable parents for Morty Jr on this robot's home world.” He fished out a cable and hooked it into the small device attached to his laptop, just as he said he would. They used a similar method to run diagnostics on Edana, though her cable had been in a compartment in her ankle, of all places, and they’d searched for far longer. “...which is…” Rick waited with baited breath as the computer read the information it gathered. “Gazorpazorp in the Andromeda system,” he finished. He walked towards the large garage door, the one that admitted the cruiser, and made a shooing motion at Summer. “Scoot, Summer.”

“Don't you need a new companion now that Morty's in the family way?” Summer suggested hopefully. Phoebe shook her head as she and an enthusiastic Edana stepped up beside Rick, who had withdrawn his portal gun.

“I don't do adventures with chicks, Summer.”

“Oh, right, that’s rich.” She tossed her head, her ponytail swishing. “You take Aunt Phoebe with you all the time. Why is she different?”

“She has a point,” Phoebe added, receiving a dirty look for her comment.

“Because she’s deadly with a blade and won’t annoy the hell out of me. She’s also not a chick.” Rick opened the portal, the swirls of green whirling against the cruiser entrance.

Summer stared at them confusedly, then marched in front of them to confront them with her back to the portal. “Even if Aunt Phoebe has a secret wiener, I think she still qualifies as a woman.” She crossed her arms petulantly. “Why won’t you take me? Even that android is going, and it’s obvious that there's not something about having a wiener or being a dude that would make me better at walking through a hole.”

Suddenly a large red arm reached through and grabbed her, pulling her through. A high-pitched scream reached their ears.

“Oh fuck,” Rick muttered, jumping through. Phoebe grabbed onto Edana with one hand and pulled the electrocution ray out of one of the concealed pockets with the other, leaping through after Rick with the confused android in tow. They stepped through, Phoebe and Rick without breaking stride, though Edana stumbled a bit. She quickly regained her footing, though, and then the three of them were pursuing Summer and her kidnapper, a large red alien with four arms speeding toward a group of similar individuals. It had Summer thrown over one shoulder, her legs kicking and her arms waving as she thrashed around. “Grandpa Rick! Aunt Phoebe! Ugh! Help! Help! Aah! Aah!”

The group converged on her once her captor reached them, and Summer screamed again. Phoebe took aim, shooting the closest red body. Rick had the same idea, also opening fire. In a matter of seconds all six creatures were dead. Rick’s gun left holes clean through those he shot. The ones Phoebe shot were vaguely smoking, and a smell not unlike pork reached her nostrils. The charge of the electrocution ray must have cooked their internal organs.

A single pale hand waved through one of the gaping holes, and Phoebe realized that that particular creature must have fallen on top of Summer. A moment later, the teen crawled through the hole looking only slightly worse for wear. Judging by the steam coming from the opening in the corps, and the lack of grime and grossness on Summer, the gun Rick used had mercifully cauterized the mortal wound he gave the creature, so Summer was spared being covered in blood and innards. She did have a few scratches on her arms, and her hair had become disheveled. Her new yellow top was slightly askew. Rick stepped forward to give her a hand. “Still think it's a good idea to go through holes without a wiener?”

Phoebe, who had by that point reached his side with Edana still following, nudged him. “Don’t be such a fucking dickbag, Rick.”

“Aunt Phoebe is here,” Summer replied defiantly, looking at Phoebe, whose appearance apparently gave her already blazing dissatisfaction at being left behind new fire. “And she brought that android, too. I don’t think either of them are men or have wieners.”

“No, but they have guns and knives,” Rick said. “Did you learn your lesson or not?”

Some of the terror from before returned to her face. “I want to go home”

Rick snorted, “Yeah, no duh.” He pulled the portal gun out, but just then a large hunk of dirt came flying and knocked it out of his hand. “Ugh! Son of a bitch,” he hissed. A bruise was already forming. _If that had been a rock, it probably would have broken his hand,_ she thought. Instead, she said, “This is why each of us should have one. In case something like _this_ happens.”

Rick glowered at her. “Not the goddamn time, Pheebs.”

Summer gasped. When they followed her line of sight, it was clear why. Another snarling band of red creatures was stomping around at the top of the hills around them, ready to charge down at any moment.

“Great,” Rick snapped, “Now I have to take over a whole planet because of your stupid boobs, Summer.”

Phoebe stepped on his foot. Hard. “Now who’s not helping.” They braced themselves.


	15. Who Runs the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoebe has to perpetuate an uncomfortable lie to help them survive, and in which she steps on Rick's foot, like, two more times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title is a reference to that one Beyoncé song.

_Part Two_

Somehow, though Phoebe could never tell anyone how it happened later, they had gotten the huge red brutes to start bringing them any discarded sex robots they could find. As it turned out, ‘Gwendolyn’ had many, many sisters, any number of whom Rick would have to scavenge and scrounge through for parts. The four of them were in a roughly designed tent that had already devolved into a sexbot graveyard, with heads, torsos, and limbs lying scattered about. Summer sat moodily on a pile of grasses while they worked—the sheer volume meant that once Phoebe and Edana knew what to look for, they both helped him. A continuous line filed in and out, dumping more bots in the corner, most of them growling, roaring, and making incoherent sounds that didn’t count as speech.

“Thanks, dum-dum,” Rick said to the latest creature to walk through.

It roared, and when Phoebe looked up from sorting useful and non-useful parts, saw that it was advancing on Summer. Almost as one she and Rick aimed to kill without a word passing between them. “I said, thanks, dum-dum. Go get more,” he snapped. The creature backed off almost immediately, though it had a resentful look about its ugly face as it backed out of the tent to do as Rick asked. “Summer, put your burqua on!” he hissed irritatedly.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. She wished he would quit calling it that. It wasn’t a burqua even by technical definition. It was more a niquab, which she couldn’t help but mention. “It’s actually a niquab,” she said stiffly, handing him another component he wanted. “A burqua would cover the eyes, too. Niquab is when the veil covers the face, but not the eyes.”

“Whatever it is, it’s a human-rights violation, and I spent a lot on this top,” Summer said.

“It’s only a violation if someone is forced to wear it—or not to wear it,” Phoebe replied. “It’s harmless by itself.”

“Look, I'm trying to repair a p-portal gun with a bunch of sex-doll parts, and I have to do it one-handed to keep these belushis from carting you off, the least you could do is be ashamed of your gender, Summer.”

Phoebe reached over and pinched him. “Ah, Phoebe, what the fuck, it was a joke!”

“Well it’s not in very good taste, is it? It’s not her fault they’re all pigs.”

Summer groaned. “Ugh, What's the deal with this place? Why is it such a sausage planet, and how did such backward idiots invent robots?”

“I don’t think they did,” Phoebe replied.

Rick smirked at her. “What, you don’t hold with the theory that obviously, at some point, the Gazorpians became so evolved that they replaced females with birthing machines, and that the resultant lack of distraction and hen-pecking allowed them to focus entirely on war, so they bombed themselves back to the stone age, and now they just fight with each other over fake pussy with sticks and rocks all day long?”

“First of all, Rick, don’t say ‘females’, we’re not just broodmares or dogs, and second of all, I do still have knives, Rick, and right now I have the electrocution pistol in one hand. I can stab you or shoot you before you can get me, so I’d be careful before running my mouth about an entire gender.”

From across the room, Summer said, “Boo-yah!”, then sniffed, “You think it's efficient to get rid of women?”

Rick, clearly thinking Phoebe wouldn’t really stab or shoot him, and also clearly wanting to rile up Summer, said, “You ever see a line for the men's room? Are you hea—do you li—do you hear me, Summer?”

“Right, because most men are the ones who have to change out old pads and tampons to avoid toxic shock, change their baby's diapers, and who actually wash their hands after they flush.”

Summer laughed, and Rick gave Phoebe a stink eye. “You are absolutely _no_ fun, do you know that?”

Phoebe shrugged nonchalantly. “Anything you bring I can return.”

Rick’s lips curled upward, then parted, but a sudden rumbling drew all of them outside. A ship that resembled a large floating head hovered above the hordes of male Gazorpians. 

A robotic voice issued from the head. _“Droppin' loads.” _

The clustered red aliens underneath took up the chant. “Droppin' loads! Droppin' loads!”

“The—” _belch _“—plot—” _belch _“—thickens,” Rick said, genuinely interested.

As the head vomited more sex robots, the red aliens swarmed, their shouts filling the air.

“Uh, you might want to cover your eyes,” Phoebe muttered.

“Yeah, like it was my dream to watch,” Summer replied sarcastically.

It was over almost as soon as it started, and then the head was exclaiming, _“Yeah, baby!”_ The sexbots had all transformed the way Morty’s ‘Gwendolyn’ had, resembling pink spheres as they rose to go back into the ship.

“Summer, Phoebe, grab—grab hold,” Rick said, shooting a grappling hook from yet another gun in his possession at one of the closest ascending spheres. Phoebe grabbed onto him just as his feet started to leave the ground. “Edana, hold onto me,” she instructed the android. Soon they were soaring through the sky as a human and android chain, dangling from the line of the grappling hook with no safety net and nothing else to cling to. If the line snapped, they’d fall to their death.

_“Yeah, baby!” _the robotic voice boomed again.

“Aaaah!” Rick screamed.

“Oh fuck you and your tendency to have us hanging by a thread inches from death, Rick,” Phoebe hissed at him, her grip tightening around him as tightly as she could manage. In her current state she couldn’t appreciate the smooth lines of his chest and back under her arms.

At last the terrifying seconds of dangling in empty air ended and they were flying through the mouth of the floating head.

“Grandpa Rick, where are we going?” Summer said as soon as their feet touched the solid interior of the ship. They started walking.

“Well, obviously, Summer, it appears the lower tier of this society is being manipulated through sex and advanced technology by a hidden ruling class, sound familiar?” Rick said, leaning up to touch one of the collection chambers for the incubating sexbots.

Summer gasped, “Ticketmaster?”

The hair on the back of Phoebe’s neck stood on end, and in a flash she had her hand in her pocket fingering the electrocution pistols that she had only minutes before hastily stashed in her pocket to free up her hands.

“Oh, there—there we go, Summer,” Rick said, looking at a space to the side of her. She turned and saw two cloaked figures had closed in on them.

“Hey—hey, brother, hey, bro, nice racket you got going on here. Listen, I'm Rick Sanchez from Earth dimension C-137. I don't mean you any harm, coming in peace. It's all cool in the, uh— ‘Good in the neighborhood’ is what I was trying to come—is what I meant.” As Rick finally stopped rambling, the two figures looked at each other, then threw off their cloaks to reveal two tall, feminine forms, both in knee-high boots and thigh-length skirts, though of different colors. They both had four arms each in the usual place and another set where their ears should be. They towered over everyone present.

Of course, Rick couldn’t keep his mouth closed. “Oh, I get it—the old behind-every-great-man, Amazon twist—”

“Silence!” The one in the pink skirt and brown boots snapped at him. The one beside her in the mint-colored skirt and gray boots moved her hands and he rose into the air choking, coughing, and gasping. Apparently these aliens had advanced telekinetic abilities. Lovely.

“Your slave is ill-mannered,” Pink spoke again.

“M-my—our slave?” Summer repeated hesitantly.

Phoebe stared at Rick with wide eyes, then at the large alien woman choking him. Even if she could shoot Mint, Pink most likely had the same abilities and would choke her next, aside from the fact that Rick could get injured falling from that height. All she could do was hope for the best, and try to get Mint to stop asphyxiating Rick as soon as possible before he suffered brain damage from oxygen deprivation.

“We assume you are from a more primitive world, where men are still permitted to be servants,” Pink continued. “If he is a rogue male, tell us now and we will kill him.”

Summer rushed forward, shouting, “He's our slave, he's our slave, he's definitely our slave.” Phoebe flinched at Summer’s hurried words. She didn’t know how she felt about being included in a slave owning narrative even if it was to hoodwink the angry aliens so they didn’t kill Rick. Meanwhile, above them, Rick continued to asphyxiate.

“Could you release him?” Phoebe requested, trying to stay polite. “I don’t want a brain-damaged slave. He’ll be useless.” The words felt like poison in her mouth, but she supposed she had to stick to the narrative Summer established. Any inconsistencies and they might _all_ be choking midair, thrown into some dungeon and never heard from again, or thrown out of the head before it got to wherever it was going. Regardless, smothering, falling, or being tortured did not rank on her list of thrilling new pastimes. 

Mint lowered Rick then allowed him to drop to the floor, where he laid on his back at all of their feet. “Ugh! Ohh! Oh-ho-ho! Oh, boy, what's the opposite of ‘Wubba-lubba-dub-dubs’? Am I right, ladies and gentlemen?” Phoebe facepalmed. _Rick liked being asphyxiated? Did he maybe have some sort of breath play kink going on? You learn something new every day. _“Are you guys kidding me?” Rick gasped, pulling out his flask and downing a considerable amount.

“Ugh, I think he might have a little damage,” Phoebe huffed, toeing him in his side. She knew the words would rile Rick up, but at the moment he couldn’t do anything about it without ruining their cover story. Rick rolled over and sent her the opposite of a dazzling smile in return. “Edana, help me please.” She bent down and, with Edana’s help, hauled Rick to his feet.

“We will gladly replace him if he is badly damaged and no longer of use to you,” Pink told them.

“He’s fine,” Phoebe replied, trying not to sound frantic as she did. “We don’t have him for his capacity to think, after all.” She could feel Rick’s indignation rolling off of him in waves, but she could apologize later, _after _they found a way to get off of the planet.

“Ah, a sex slave, then? Or one for all of your manual labor?” Pink mused. “We no longer directly copulate with our males, but I can understand why a more primitive people without our advanced reproductive technology or sexual evolution might see the need.”

Phoebe would have laughed if it weren’t both so absurd and so offensive. On Earth, anyone who threw around the word ‘primitive’ to talk about another culture or ethnicity was almost always being racist and xenophobic. She supposed this counted as racism, though not the typical kind. Perhaps speciesism would be a more apt term, and xenophobia still fit the bill. Instead of voicing her thoughts about either its comedic value or its offensiveness, she tamped down her feelings and immersed herself into the lie she now had to act out with Summer. “A little of both,” she said shifting closer to Summer as she laid her hand on her shoulder. “This is my sister Jennifer’s daughter. We inherited our slave, which is why he’s so old.”

Rick was going to _kill_ her later, but who the fuck cared if they weren’t brutally murdered? She used the same reasoning to ignore her own discomfort, but it took effort.

Pink’s sharp eyes looked over Rick’s form dismissively. “I hope he’s better than he looks,” she sniffed.

The two aliens left them to themselves for the rest of the journey, during which she whispered “Just go with it,” in Mandarin to Rick. In response, he frowned and looked up at the ceiling in displeasure.

The ship didn’t travel far before it started to descend, and before they knew it they were disembarking—but not before Pink slipped a set of chains around Rick’s feet and a collar around his neck. Mint led them down the gangplank and then through a short hallway, Pink leading Rick like a dog. Phoebe felt a fresh flood of guilt, but knowing they would kill Rick otherwise kept her from stepping in to stop the treatment. The door opened to a hive of activity. They passed through a set of guards on either side of the door, then followed Mint through the crowd. There were only women, women everywhere.

Eventually, Pink and Mint had them stop in front of a set of ornate double-doors that opened into a throne room. Pink passed the lead to Rick’s chains off to Phoebe, then gestured for her, Summer, and Edana to enter the throne room. “Keep your slave at heel,” Pink said, “He is unruly. We expect you to control him at all times.”

Phoebe swallowed thickly, but made herself say evenly, “Yes, of course.” She turned her head to Rick. “Come on, then.” She sent a quick look just for him that said _I am not enjoying this._ Some of the lingering irritation faded away and he nodded, though he looked no happier about their situation. Phoebe could understand why. She had no desire to be forced to pretend to be someone’s slave, nor their master. There was too much ancestral trauma for it to be at all enjoyable or anything less than awkward for her. Someone had owned some of her ancestors less than three or four generations ago—slavery only ended in 1865, and until the last decade, the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of slaves were doing things like meeting the president.

The two earth women, their android companion, and their pretend slave entered the throne room, approaching an alien woman wearing a crown and a lavish beige silk dress. She stood, doing an odd bow and clasped hand greeting as she spoke. “I am Ma-Sha, ruler of Gazorpazorp, I am here if you need to talk.”

Phoebe curtsied, and Summer spun in place with a look of awe on her features. “What is this place?” Summer breathed.

“Paradise,” Ma-Sha replied. “Walk with me.” Ma-Sha was quite obviously the queen, and they had little choice but to go with her. “We built it during the great passive-aggression,” she explained as they walked, “when the female members of our species separated from the male members due to their increasingly destructive behavior.”

Every time she ran into someone they greeted each other with the words ‘I am here if you need to talk.’

“From here, we dispense mechanical surrogates to maintain our population,” Ma-Sha continued, stopping so they could observe, “Fertilized surrogates are returned here to our nursery. The female children are placed into educational programs where they can discover a service to our paradise that fulfills them most. Male children...they get to play outside.”

“That was just a baby,” Summer gasped as a young male Gazorpian was deposited into a large slingshot and then flung through a disposal chute to the outside.

“And within a day, he'll be an adult male Gazorpian—one of the most aggressively violent creatures in the universe,” the guard walking with them commented.

“Wait a minute, we're here because a male Gazorpian was born on our planet,” Rick blurted. Phoebe gave Rick a panicked look out of the line of sight of the queen and her guard. _Shut up_ she said with her eyes. She glanced at the two tall alien women to see them exchange an outraged glance and shake their heads, then look to her and Summer. 

With a sinking feeling, Phoebe turned to Rick. She forced her voice to come out harshly. “Men do not speak in the presence of women,” she pretended to reprimand him. The queen had one set of arms crossed while her guard had one set on her hips, and both seemed to be waiting for something. _Oh no, do they really expect me to hit Rick? I can’t..._Phoebe thought frantically, but Summer had her covered.

“You speak when you're spoken to, ding-a-ling!” Summer smacked Rick across the face hard enough that he fell to the floor and had to be helped up by Edana. She turned to the two imposing Gazorpian women, clearly apologetic. “It's true, though—one of your babies was born on earth.”

“We came here not a half-hour after its birth,” Phoebe added. “And please pardon our slave. My mother was very lax with him, but she should have been firmer.” The lies almost physically hurt at this point. It felt like her throat was closing up.

“Are you the ruler of this Earth?” Ma-Sha asked Summer, appeased for the time being.

“How did you know?” Summer fibbed.

“The quality of your top,” Ma-Sha responded.

“Do you love it?”

“I love it.”

Someone new came by, and another flurry of ‘I'm here if you need to talk’ followed.

“If the Gazorpian is male, your earth is in grave danger. We will give you passage back home so it can be terminated,” Ma-Sha returned to the conversation, her face and tone grave. She brightened and clapped her hands, “But first, Mojitos.”

“We don't have time for moj—” Rick started, but Phoebe cut him off by stomping hard on his foot.

“We would be honored,” she said politely, “to accept, however, my sisters are woefully unprepared to deal with such a threat, and I fear for their imminent safety. We do not wish to offend, but could we perhaps return when we have less pressing issues at hand?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Well in that case, we’ll just have your Mojitos made to go.” Ma-Sha clapped her hands again, and they started walking.

Phoebe gave Rick a meaningful look and jerked her head in the direction they were taking. “_STOP_,” she signed at him, since they had picked up a few signs from Summer, who was taking ASL as her language course. “_FOLLOW PLAN.” _They could get out sooner and with less complications if he could just pretend for a little while longer. To her surprise Rick grudgingly complied. In short order they had Mojitos handed to them as they settled into a small fuchsia-colored space cruiser.

“Thank you for your kindness,” Phoebe curtsied to Ma-Sha. “Hopefully we will meet again under less dire circumstances.”

“Yes, it would be lovely to speak to your queen again,” Ma-Sha replied, watching Summer as she slid into the cruiser, followed by Edana and a slightly-more-clumsy-than-normal Rick.

“Fair weather and safe travels, Queen Summer,” Ma-Sha intoned.

“To you too,” Summer returned from her seat.

Phoebe walked to the ship on shaky legs, nearly collapsing into her seat behind Summer. As soon as the hatch closed, she let out a shaky sigh of relief. “I swear to gods, Rick, I thought you were going to get us executed,” she hissed. “_Cào nǐ zǔ zōng shí bā dài! _I almost had a heart attack, like, twice!”

“You seemed to be doing fine,” Rick sneered.

“No thanks to you,” Phoebe shot back as Edana guided the craft into the air. Apparently she had flown spacecrafts in her previous life. Her personal memories might be erased, but her skill sets were intact. Phoebe twisted to the side and reached for Rick. “Lean over, I’m going to get out the thing you used to free everyone when Snuffles decided to make humanity his bitch for a day.”

Rick shuffled closer, still scowling. She reached into his lab coat and fished around for the right device, only able to go off of touch rather than sight. “I think I have it,” she muttered, pulling out what she had at an awkward angle. “Yes, this is it.” She freed Rick in a matter of seconds. “You should probably give Edana directions. I have no idea where she’s flying, only that she won’t crash us.” She reached out and squeezed his right shoulder with her left hand. “I’m sorry about earlier. You know I didn’t mean any of it. I would never own a slave, let alone enslave my best friend.”

“Aww, you two _are _friends,” Summer cooed from the front. “I totally called it.”

“Shut it, Summer,” Rick growled. “Edana…”

Phoebe sat back wearily. Before she knew it, her eyes closed of their own accord to the gentle murmur of Rick’s voice as he guided them home. An indeterminate amount of time later, she startled awake to find them descending through Earth’s atmosphere—and to find that while she slept, she’d ended up slumped against Rick’s shoulder. For some reason he’d refrained from shoving her off and into the floor, for which she was belatedly grateful. Startled, she sat up abruptly, any residual drowsiness fading away. She glanced at Rick out of the corner of her eye, but he was steadfastly paying attention to Edana and her driving. Phoebe subtly shifted away from him and sat forward, putting it out of her mind for the time being. They were soon flying low, just over the streets, and she had something else on her mind anyway: Morty Jr, and whether or not he had already started a killing spree. They made it to the house but found no car in the driveway. “Does anyone see the kid?” she said urgently. “Summer, text your mom and see if he’s still inside.”

“No,” Summer said to both a minute later, “He’s not at home and neither are Morty or Dad. That can’t be good, can it? What if he’s already destroying stuff and terrorizing people?”

“Then we deal with it,” Rick said evenly. “Edana, take us up over the town. If he’s gone on a rampage, we’ll see it.”

Edana took them up again until they had a bird’s eye view of the town. They all crowded at the windows, looking down. “There,” Summer pointed. Edana took off in the direction she indicated. Sure enough, they saw a little damage already done, though nothing irreversible, and no bodies. Uprooted trees and street lamps littered the ground, and a building or two had taken some damage. They followed the line of destruction—which actually circled back toward the house—until they came upon Jerry and Beth’s car looking a little worse for wear, with Morty and Jerry confronting a now almost full-grown young male Gazorpian. Edana landed so that the cruiser could face the car, and as soon as the top came up, Rick jumped out as if on fire. “_Merde_,” Phoebe cursed softly under her breath, hopping out after him.

“Out of the—out of the way, Morty!” Rick shouted, weapon aimed at Morty Jr. By the looks of it, it was the same one that had left holes through the bodies of the male Gazorpians he’d killed earlier.

Morty apparently had other ideas. He leapt in front of Morty Jr, pitifully trying to shield him with his much smaller body. “No!”

“Morty, that's one of the most violently aggressive creatures in the universe!” Rick yelled.

Morty’s skinny body shook with adrenaline and determination. He tackled Rick, taking both Rick and Phoebe by surprise. “He's my son! And if you hurt him, you'll have to kill me, Rick!”

After seeing the other male Gazorpians nearly assault Summer earlier and learning that they almost universally had the same temperament, Phoebe was a bit less forgiving of Morty Jr than she had been a few hours ago when he was just a squalling, many-armed infant in his teen father’s arms. “It might be for the best,” Phoebe called, coming to stand closer to Rick but not restraining him as she had before. “We went to Gazorpazorp. We know what adult male Gazorpians are capable of, Morty! Summer was almost jumped by a group of them! If he’s determined to be the same, it’ll be kinder to put him down before he kills or seriously harms anyone.”

“What—no—what? Phoebe, how could you even suggest—no! No one is hurting my son!”

Morty Jr looked around uncertainly and wailed, “Dad, I'm so confused!”

“I’m here, son!” Morty disentangled himself from where he’d been wrestling Rick on the ground and went over to his huge alien son. They sat on the edge of the sidewalk to talk.

“Well…” Phoebe sighed, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. “What a fucked up whirlwind of a day. I’m beat, what about you two, Summer, Rick?”

“Yean, I’m kind of tired, too,” Summer yawned.

Phoebe eyed Rick. “Rick, what about you?”

He shrugged. “Isn't it interesting, you two, that after all that stuff we just did, nothing really mattered and there was no point to it? Kind of makes you wonder, huh—about nothing?”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Don’t start on another one of your depressed rants about the futility, pointlessness, and monotony of existence, Rick. It’s been too long a day for that shit.”

“Are you sure it doesn't make you re-evaluate your policy about taking girls on adventures?” Summer pressed instead. “Girls besides Aunt Phoebe, I mean?”

Rick scoffed. “No, I'd say, given what we've been through, that I was right the whole time. You were utterly useless today. I mean, what—what did you contribute besides getting captured immediately and being a pain in my ass?”

Beth’s voice interrupted what would have been an indignant response. “Phoebe? Dad? Summer? Where were you guys this whole time?”

“Oh, on Gazorpazorp,” Summer answered promptly, “Where were you?”

“I was reading a newspaper…”

Phoebe grabbed Rick and tugged him toward the spaceship. “Let’s go, Rick, before I drop right here in the middle of the street. The rest of our lot can find their own way home since they found their own way here.” They were only a street or two over anyway. If they had to, everyone else could walk. Her arm and hand tightened into a vice-like grip. “Besides, we need to reevaluate your response to building a secondary portal gun for me. If I’d had one, none of the stuff on Gazorpazorp would have happened…”


	16. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick introduces Phoebe to some old friends. Phoebe meets a few familiar faces and spends a few hours drinking with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, TW for alcohol consumption.

_End of March_

_“Phoebe,” _the voice hissed, so close but so far away. “_Wake up...Phoebe…” Was there an earthquake? Why was everything shaking…?_

As Phoebe came out of her dream, she realized that the voice was really Rick calling her name. He was bent low over her bed, a hand on her shoulder. Edana stood behind him holding something. He was close enough that she could feel his body heat, his breath, in the air around her bed. Something warm, like a tiny garden snake with a body of hot coils, slithered through her stomach. It twisted the way it had a few other times, but more intensely, as his face swam into focus above hers. Rick’s silvery eyes gleamed in the light from the window, as uncanny as ever.

“Rick,” she whispered hoarsely, struggling to sit up. “Wha—I thought we agreed we were going out Thursday night?”

“Phoebe, it _is _Thursday night.” Rick sounded amused with a touch of concern.

Phoebe groaned and rubbed at her eyes. “Ugh, I’m sorry, I must have totally spaced. I put in extra lab hours, first to catch up and then to get ahead, and then I spent hours grading the lab reports my undergrads turned in to me—”

Rick squinted at her. “Don’t you have two weeks from the due-date to return those?”

“Yes, but I don’t exactly want them to pile up, now do I?”

Rick scoffed. “I’ll—I’ll help you through them if you’re worried you can’t catch up, but right now I need you. Here—” He reached for the shadowy mass in Edana’s hands, then shoved the soft mass with hard shapes underneath its surface at her, and she realized it was one of her pre-packed dressed.

Phoebe held the fabric numbly to her chest as all of her awareness rushed back to her and her brain shook off sleep. “What are we doing? Where are we going?”

“To meet some old friends of mine,” Rick said. He threw her covers back, _and gods was she glad she wore clothes to bed here,_ all but dragging her out of her warm bed. “Get dressed. I’ll wait.” He turned his back to stare pointedly at the door. He wouldn’t dare watch, but he wouldn’t leave so he could be sure she’d actually get up instead of falling back asleep. If she didn’t have the next day to sleep in she might have wrung his neck—but no, she recalled with a wry grin, Rick _liked_ being choked. She’d have to think of a different way to strike back if he woke her up when she needed sleep.

“But, like, where, the bar on Barznuz 9? The one on Cragonia?” She probed.

“Neither.” Apparently Rick wouldn’t be a fount of information at the moment. Sometimes he wouldn’t shut up, sometimes getting him to explain something was like pulling teeth.

Phoebe groaned but forced herself out of bed. Her body and subconscious mind obviously trusted Rick enough to think he wouldn’t hurt her in her sleep, trusted him enough to relax into a deeper sleep than she’d had in a while, she mused, otherwise he never would have gotten that close without having polka dots in his liver and kidneys. She contemplated what that meant as she made quick work of stripping down to her underwear, sliding into her leggings and gently shimmying into the dress with care. She sat on her bed and shoved her feet into her boots, which somehow moved from her room door to beside her bed. Rick must have moved them closer so she would have easier access.

“All right,” she said, sliding her daggers into place and rising to her feet. “Let’s go, Rick.” She strode to her door and opened it just enough to slide out, one foot easing into the hallway, when she stopped dead. Rick impatiently nudged her from behind. “You forget how to walk?”

Phoebe’s focus was on the figure in front of her, which seemed to be creeping toward Summer’s room from the stairs. She was a brunette with short, straight hair. Her pajamas consisted of a short-sleeved purple shirt and a pair of Eeyore pajama bottoms. She had a short, pointy, upturned nose, that would have made her look snobbish and severe if not for her nervous fiddling with the hem of her shirt or the anxious chewing of her lip.

“Who the fuck are you?” Phoebe blurted, hand going for a knife.

The door flew inward as Rick wrenched it the rest of the way open. “Who the fuck are you?” Rick echoed.

The girl’s eyes widened, going wider when she saw the knife. “Um...Tammy?” The teen mumbled hesitantly.

“What, you’re not fucking sure what your name is?” Phoebe muttered, making her flush.

Across the hall, Summer’s door opened. “Grandpa Rick? Aunt Phoebe? What’s going on? Why are you in the hallway?”

“Who the fuck is she?” Phoebe shot at Summer with a nod at ‘Tammy’. She didn’t take her eyes—or her knife—off their mark.

Summer’s eyes traveled over to the stranger. “Oh, that’s Tammy.”

“But who _is_ she? What’s she doing here?”

“She’s a friend. We go to school together. She came over after dinner to spend the night. You and Grandpa Rick were already in the garage.”

“Oh...ok.” Phoebe lowered her knife. “Well, say something next time alright? She nearly gave us a heart attack.”

Summer finally seemed to notice the knife in her hand. “Jesus, Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Rick, what were you gonna do, stab her and shoot her?” Summer’s comment told Phoebe that Rick had a weapon in hand as well, most likely an energy pistol or one of their other inventions.

“If she turned out to be a threat, yes,” Phoebe replied

“Only if we had to,” Rick responded.

Phoebe stepped into the hallway with Rick and Edana. The two human friends put away their respective weapons.

“We’ll just be going now,” Phoebe said. She waved at Tammy. “Nice meeting you.”

“Eh, who—” _belch_ “—who gives a shit, let’s get out of here.”

Tammy waved back feebly until they disappeared from view around the corner and down the stairs.

“Edana, watch the garage while we’re gone. If someone that’s not Summer, Beth or Morty tries to enter the garage, stop them,” Rick instructed the android.

“I would be happy to,” Edana chirped.

“If you need help, use the Meeseeks box,” Phoebe added. They’d had her try it out a few days prior and the Meeseeks took orders from her the way they would from anyone else. Phoebe had gloated about that, much to Rick’s chagrin. However, memories overshadowed her small victory. Pulling down the Meeseeks box had reminded her of the last time they used it: when she summoned two to clean the blood of their dead selves from the floor and wall of the garage.

Strange how little time had passed since their excursion to Gazorpazorp that ended with Phoebe convincing Rick to make an emergency portal gun for her. Stranger still how little time had really passed since they had fled their ruined world with Morty in tow to slip into the lives of their recently dead clones. The idea that so many realities and timeless existed alongside one another still messed with her conception of reality. She didn’t rest any easier after Rick installed interdimensional cable, though it wasn’t the array of newly accessible television channels that bothered her, but rather the goggles that allowed the wearer to look through the eyes of their alternate selves. She’d chosen not to look at her other selves when he offered her the opportunity to.

It unnerved her to have a window into their lives. It was trippy enough that they were now living in a parallel universe/alternate timeline to their own, but comparing even more of their other selves to their own past or current lives? She wasn’t sure what unsettled her more—the differences, or the similarities. She expected the differences, after all, not a timeline so similar to their own that they could slip into the lives of their alternate selves without anyone noticing or batting an eye. A version of them had died, and except for them, no one seemed to know or notice.

Once in the garage, Edana locked the door connecting it to the house from the inside. Phoebe discovered early on that the android liked having something to do, so she would often suggest things like polishing their weapons, tidying the shelves, or, when there wasn’t a visitor to the house that they wanted to keep out of their workspace, removing anything that they meant to discard. Phoebe had also taught the android how to knit, and while the sight of an android knitting felt a little absurd at first, it kept their mechanical assistant occupied when she had to spend time alone.

Rick scoffed where he sat in the driver’s seat as she gave Edana a quick hug before climbing into the cruiser with him. “I don’t want to hear it, Rick,” she said pointedly when she heard him. 

Rick rolled his eyes, carefully backing out, turning, and lifting off in a few precise moves. The cruiser rose in the sky, gaining altitude. “I just—I just don’t see the point in you investing so much in her.”

Phoebe leaned back into the passenger seat, arms crossed over her chest. She puffed up her cheeks then forced the air out of them. “On a scientific level, I guess you could say that us humans are capable of bonding with almost anything, be that each other, a velociraptor, an alien, our dogs, or our Roombas. On a personal level, I think I do see her as a person, and no matter how many snide remarks you make, I can’t stop seeing her as one.”

“Oh, here we go, another pack-bonding lecture,” Rick muttered, pulling a flask out to drink. 

Phoebe reached over and plucked it from his fingers. “If we’re going to a bar, there’s no reason you should get to start early,” she said in a falsely sweet voice. “Besides,” she added, “You’d be at an unfair disadvantage if we played any drinking games.”

Rick scowled at her and made to grab it back without taking his eyes off of where they were going. He kept one hand on the wheel while the other struck out blindly. Phoebe batted his hand away with a snicker.

“Phee, do _not_ make me park this cruiser.” Rick growled in frustration, “Give me my flask back!”

“Ooh, what are you gonna do, Rick?” Phoebe taunted. “I’m soooo scared, Rick.” She tucked the flask as far away from him as she could manage, which happened to be underneath her right arm. She squirmed away from him toward the door.

“Uh, Phoebe, stop being an ass!” Rick exclaimed.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Phoebe muttered.

Rick’s eyes narrowed, but his hand dropped and with a resigned sigh he put it back on the steering wheel. Phoebe leaned against the door, her cheek touching the icy glass. She stayed pressed against the door until they landed, at which point she calmly offered the flask to her friend. Rick scowled and snatched it back from her.

“I still say you’re an ass,” Rick grumbled, opening it and immediately pouring some straight down his throat. He pocketed it, pushed his door open, and got out.

“And I still say that’s rich coming from you,” Phoebe replied as she followed him. “I still don’t know our destination.”

“Eterni—” _belch _“—Eternium, home to one of the oldest races in the galaxy.”

“Neat,” Phoebe said. She glanced around to see the standard fare: parking lots were mostly the same everywhere, though ones in space tended to be full of space cruisers of varying shapes, sizes, and designs. The one they currently stood in was no different, nearly filled to capacity with a variety of cruisers. It looked...oddly familiar, but she figured once one had been in one space parking lot, they’d been in ten. Most of them looked the same, after all. She pushed her feelings of dejavú aside. “So these friends,” she started as they walked through the lot and passed by a green-skinned alien with a bulbous head, “Are we meeting them here or are they waiting on us?”

“Meeting,” Rick said. He pulled the door open and gave it a little push as he passed through so it wouldn’t close in her face. Phoebe caught it and followed him inside. Rick made a beeline for the bar, where he flagged down the bartender, a large ladybug-like alien with dark fur and mammalian eyes and limbs. Rick spoke to the odd-looking alien quietly in a language she didn’t know, then headed over to an empty booth.

At Rick’s urging, Phoebe sat next to him rather than across from him. As they slid into the side of the booth facing out into the bar, it dawned on her that they had come to this bar once before after a particularly grueling mission. Like the bar from their very first foray into alien bars as a team, this one had a variety of patrons, including more of the purple fish people she’d seen before, and more of the pink-skinned and blonde-haired aliens. There were even a few that looked like Rhograr, though since none of them called out to Rick when they walked by minutes earlier she figured he wasn’t among them.

Just then the bartender brought over five drinks on a tray, then returned the next minute with a steaming heap of...onion rings? Phoebe picked one up and gave it a critical eye. She bit into it, and yes, it was definitely an onion ring or something that tasted like one. She frowned down at the delicious-smelling pile of food, wondering things about imports and evolution and whether or not they were Earth onions in space or space onions that eerily resembled Earth onions.

Rick took his phone out of his pocket and flicked to the notifications screen. “All right, they should be here soon,” Rick said.

“I still don’t know anything about them.” Phoebe turned to her friend to give him an accusing, pointed look. “I’m not sure who we’re looking for, or how many.”

“Three,” Rick replied, still stingy on details as he typed out a message and hit send.

Phoebe groaned, accepting defeat, and finished eating the onion ring in her hand. A few minutes more, though, and Phoebe’s curiosity was satisfied. The door opened to permit a group of three. Two members were tall and of the humanoid variety, while the third most certainly was _not_ either tall or humanoid. “Welp, the gang’s here,” Rick said, standing. Phoebe studied them as they approached, interested in who else had managed to befriend her surly, at times downright cantankerous, friend.

One had rather bird-like features, with a pair of what looked like large, gray-tipped eagle wings gently resting about his body. Phoebe initially mistook them for being a part of his outfit, as the way they folded over his back made them look like an expensive cape. His actual outfit consisted of yellow gloves, an auburn “skirt” of some sort, also made of feathers, and yellow boots. A tuft of feathers stood out against the front of his head, while a polka-dotted, feathered green helmet hugged his skull. A ruff of darker green feathers lay flat along his neck.

The other humanoid looked a little like a vampire or a member of the Addams family with her parlor. Like Phoebe she wore a dress, though of a different cut. It was short and sleeveless, coming only to her knees, with her pale blue-grey legs extending from beneath the fabric. Underneath the dress she wore white, off-the-shoulders, long-sleeved blouse. Like the other humanoid and Phoebe, she too wore boots: brown ones that reached mid-calf. A small circlet rested on her head. Tendrils of her long inky hair hung down nearly to the floor. Unlike humans, who possessed four fingers and a thumb, she instead had three fingers and a thumb.

The third, to Phoebe’s surprise, was a short orange feline alien, not unlike some she had seen in other space bars. He had a blue nose, a short dark brown goatee, frizzy, frazzled whiskers and unkempt fur. Like the other feline aliens, he had a bald tail like a rat or an armadillo, with a thick brown tuft of fur in as much disarray as the rest of him gracing its tip. Phoebe could see jagged yellow teeth in his mouth, and a bit of bloodshot in his enormous yellow eyes. Like his two companions, he wore a belt at his waist with a holstered weapon that looked suspiciously like an energy pistol.

The odd trio made a beeline toward the table Rick had chosen. The feline alien was the first to speak once the three made it within normal conversation range of their table. “Rick, you miserable bastard, I missed you!” he exclaimed happily but feelingly.

“Squanchy!” Rick drawled, sounding pleased and drawing out the second syllable.

“Squanchy location, bro,” Squanchy said as he gazed at their surroundings, “You always were good at picking out the best bars.”

“I like their selection,” Rick shrugged, though interestingly his eyes flickered to Phoebe for a moment. Phoebe rolled her eyes as she recalled the other time they drank there, when they’d both come to that same conclusion. _Had he chosen this location because Phoebe seemed to like the drinks here more than those offered at other bars, or was it a simple coincidence? _Rick did, after all, admit to favoring the selection himself. Just because Phoebe happened to agree didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Rick turned to the feathered newcomer with an exclamation of “Bird Person!”, extending his arms. To her shock, they shared a brief embrace. Given Rick’s reaction to her touching his hand at their funeral, she’d been under the impression that he hated such familiar gestures.

“Rick,” Bird Person returned in a neutral tone, though he accepted the hug. Perhaps this was just his way, and he was simply the quiet friend. “It is pleasing to see you once more.”

Rick grinned, turning when his remaining friend spoke.

“Rick,” the other humanoid said coolly, though still friendly-sounding, rolling the ‘r’. “Zis is a good place you brought us to.”

“Oona!” Rick greeted her just as enthusiastically as he had Squanchy and Bird Person, though Oona appeared stoic in a different way than Bird Person.

Rick gestured beside him to his still-seated friend, and as three alien sets of eyes settled on her, Phoebe stood, noting how Oona and Bird Person towered over both her and Rick despite Rick’s height. “This is Phoebe,” Rick introduced her with a sweep of his hands.

“So this is the new addition,” Squanchy remarked. “Well squanch me silly.” He extended a paw—hand? —to her, and she carefully took it, avoiding the tips of his black claws, which were mostly, but not fully, retracted. She thought he wanted to shake her hand, but he surprised her by raising it to his lips for a kiss.

“Au squanché,” Squanchy purred.

“A pleasure,” Phoebe replied.

“Oh, you have no squanching idea,” Squanchy said, releasing her hand. “Rick didn’t share anything about you.”

“Oh? So he’s as stingy with you as he is with me, then? He didn’t tell me about any of you, either.”

“He can squanch around a lot when it comes to information,” Squanchy agreed with a ragged grin.

“I thought it would be easier to just have you four assholes meet each other,” Rick broke in breezily. “I mean, why—why waste my breath when you can learn from experience?”

Phoebe snorted. “Yeah, _we’re_ the assholes here.” She rolled her eyes but graced him with an affectionate, long-suffering smile.

Rick smirked back at her. “Each and every one of you.”

“Maybe, but that’s why we get along so well with you,” Phoebe retorted.

“Rick, I did not know you had found a soul-bond,” Bird Person commented, interrupting them. He’d been calmly glancing between them as they spoke.

As soon as the comment—and its implications—sunk in, which took all of half a second, Phoebe felt suddenly flustered, her words jumbling uncharacteristically for someone usually so sure of herself. “I—we’re not—that is—”

“Phoebe is a friend from Earth,” Rick cut in, a frown on his face. Not one of anger or unhappiness, Phoebe realized, but one of perplexment.

“A bond-mate is nothing to be ashamed of,” Bird Person replied, either unconvinced or just ignoring them.

“Well, Rick is my best friend,” Phoebe allowed. “But we’re not I don’t think that’s the same thing as what you’re implying.”

“Gubba nub nub doo rah kah,” Bird Person replied, receiving a nonplussed reaction from Phoebe, and narrowed eyes and frown of contemplation from Rick.

“Phoebe, how lovely to finally meet you.” Oona extended a pale blue-grey hand as she swept forward, apparently unaffected by Bird Person’s accusations.

Phoebe shook her hand with little reservations. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Oona.” She smirked despite the odd comments from Bird Person moments earlier.

“Yes.” Oona had blood-red lips, and her smile, though friendly, was a little unsettling. Paired with her angular features, skin-tone, and hair, Phoebe was reminded even more of a vampire, Morticia Addams, or of a morbid take on Snow White, but while Oona might be unsettling, she was far from unfriendly. She seemed reserved and constantly observing everyone, but completely lacking in hostility.

Phoebe gestured at the booth. “Why don’t you all sit down? Rick already ordered for everyone, and there’s food.”

They slid into the opposite side of the booth in reverse order from how Rick had greeted them, with Oona closest to the wall, and therefore directly across from Phoebe.

“So,” Phoebe said once everyone had been seated. “How did you all meet Rick?”

“I vas targeting ze same shipment of veapons as Rick,” Oona said, taking her drink. “Vee decided to vork togezer ven vee realized vee could not do it alone, and zen vee split ze profit.”

“Oona is a…procurer of items,” Rick said, taking his own drink in hand.

“She is a pirate,” Bird Person said plainly with a blink of his owlish eyes.

“Ah,” Phoebe said, her mind making connections with that small plug of information. She had suspected that “procurer” meant “thief”, but hadn’t jumped all the way to “pirate”. _Pirates. In space. Really? _And yet, with all she saw and experienced with Rick, space pirates hardly seemed odd in context. How strange—and how wonderful! –her life had become since she met Rick over six months prior. She would never be able to go back to the way things were before, just as she didn’t dream of _not_ having her odd friendship with her odd friend.

“We met squanching at a bar,” Squanchy told her. “Rick’s the squanchiest squancher around.”

“Rick saved my life,” Bird Person added. “Without him I would be dead and would not be here this evening to meet you.”

Phoebe figured it was only fair for her to share, too, so she said, “I followed him into another dimension, fell on him, then saved his life from a terrifying spider creature.”

“You followed him?” One of Oona’s delicate eyebrows raised in surprise. “And he let you live?”

“I know, I’m shocked too,” Phoebe replied in a joking tone.

“Squanch me sideways,” Squanchy said, “You must have squanched up quite an impression.” He set his drink to his lips, gulping it down.

“If you saw her throw a knife, you’d be impressed, too,” Rick replied, leaning back into the booth with his drink held loosely in one hand.

Squanchy abruptly halted his series of gulps and thunked down his drink. “You’ve got to be squanching me! She throws knives?” He looked at Phoebe with interest, and she smirked in a pleased manner, inwardly preening.

“She’s got the aim of an assassin,” Rick added.

Phoebe glanced at him, eyes widening a little in surprise. She knew he valued the results of years of training that she underwent, but she had no idea he thought she did well enough to make money off of it.

“Oh?” Phoebe quirked one of her own eyebrows as she sipped at her drink.

“Don’t—don’t be modest, Phoebe. Y-y-you’d make an excellent assassin,” Rick continued, “With your skills we could make even more money.”

Phoebe laughed. “Right. Because you’re not constantly inventing something dangerous, going on insane missions that put you in mortal peril, or just generally pissing someone off, sometimes a combination of all three. Face it, Rick, you need my knives and you need my brain. Someone has to keep you safe and help you craft and mod your weapons.”

“I managed before you came along,” Rick protested.

“I’ve no idea how,” Phoebe teased. “Brilliant, but no concept of personal safety.”

Rick scowled at her, though his eyes unmistakably shone with affection that did not go unnoticed by his three alien friends, who all shared a brief glance. Despite his attitude or anything he might say, it was obvious through his actions and his interactions with her that Rick cared a great deal for her. Phoebe was less guarded with her affection, but then, unlike Rick, she never set out to pretend that she didn’t possess human emotions.

The five finished the first round of drinks, then ordered a second. Together they went through the entire basket of onion rings, which they also replaced with a second order, and put in an order for mushrooms that they were eighty-five percent certain were safe for their respective species. Round three of drinks came, and then they were playing darts. 

“Squanch-tastic!” Squanchy cheered, hopping up and down in place.

“You really do have an impeccable aim,” Oona commented as Phoebe hit dead center yet again.

“Years of training and now months of mortal peril have honed my skill to a deadly precision,” Phoebe nodded, face held in a mock serious and wise expression while using a fake sage voice. 

“You joke, and yet it is true,” Bird Person remarked. “The constant practice has undoubtedly made you better.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Phoebe replied. His quiet, nearly always monotone observations unsettled her more than Oona’s vampiric appearance. (She was relieved to gather, through their conversation over the past few hours, that those of Oona’s species were actually amphibian humanoids and not vampires.)

“It is merely an observation,” Bird Person replied. 

Soon Squanchy, Oona, and Rick were giving her suggestions on various ways to “disadvantage” herself to “even out the playing field”. They requested she using her non-dominant hand, that she try throwing backwards, that she cover one eye. Someone, she couldn’t remember who, even suggest she try standing on one leg. Still, she consistently hit her mark, much to the equal parts pleasure and dismay of Rick’s gathered ensemble.

“Vee go on a woyage togezer, and you come to Dankmire,” Oona said, inviting Phoebe to her home planet as Squanchy invited Phoebe to come to Planet Squanch with Rick at some point.

“Squanch right over any time!” Phoebe discovered that his name, ‘Squanchy’, was actually short for ‘Squanchy Leroy Fleamont’, as all Squanchies had the common name of Squanchy, then a birth name and family name.

“Okay,” Phoebe agreed.

“You may also visit Bird World whenever you wish,” Bird Person offered in his quiet, stoic manner. “Though I do not know what all humans eat.” _Bird Person_, Phoebe learned, was an anglicizing of _Byrd Pursun,_ which meant something like ‘Downy Moonlight’ or ‘Moon Feather’, while Byrd Werald meant something like ‘[the] Downy Place’, as ‘Werald’ indicated a place, and articles were implied in the language.

“I’m sure Rick and I can make it out sometime,” Phoebe nodded at all of them, glancing over to the bar where Rick was paying their tab. Something occurred to her at that moment. Could some of the alien languages that Rick spoke be accounted for through his friends? She knew from experience and common sense that aliens had their own home-world languages, with Oona’s thick accent and Bird Person’s name serving as a ready example. Perhaps Rick spoke one of the languages of Dankmire or Byrd Werald. Phoebe would have to ask him later once they arrived home, though she felt she already knew the answer. _Didn’t Bird Person say something to Rick in his language earlier without stopping to explain? Rick must have understood him, which means he probably speaks the language too._

“All right, let’s go,” Rick sighed as he returned to them.

“It was nice meeting all of you,” Phoebe said, offering each of them a smile.

“Remember to squanch us up some time, huh?” Squanchy pressed.

“Yes, vee must do zis again,” Oona agreed.

“The evening has been quite enjoyable,” Bird Person chimed in softly.

“Yes, it has,” Phoebe smiled. “I’m glad Rick has the three of you.”

Rick made a noise of protest and put a hand on her arm to start pulling her away. “Don’t get all mushy, Phoebe.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Rick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I borrowed Queen Oona and Dankmire from Disenchantment. No, she is not exactly the same, nor will this turn into a cross-over story. I kept her Pirate Queen look (and her appearance in general) as well as her accent. If anyone is curious, this is the look I tried describing [ https://disenchantment.fandom.com/wiki/Queen_Oona?file=Oona_as_pirate.png ]. I love the Oona from Disenchantment, and I can see her being an old friend of Rick's, Bird Person's, and Squanchy's for some reason. If anyone is curious about the character in general, the link to that Oona's wikipedia page is here [ https://disenchantment.fandom.com/wiki/Queen_Oona ].
> 
> I really hope I did Squanchy and Bird Person justice. I really wish there was more material to work with as far as their characters are concerned. Whenever I get stuck on Rick or one of the Smiths I can just go watch a YouTube clip to get a better grasp on their voice and personality. Unlike many other characters, there isn't as much show material for Rick's two friends as of yet.


	17. Nothing Like A Little Spite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rick has a pissing contest with Mr. Needful, aka 'The Devil', and Phoebe helps him achieve his goals. OR, in which there are feels for Phoebe and Rick.

_April _

Phoebe carefully parked the cruiser that she, Summer, Rick, and Edana had used to return to Earth from Gazorpazorp. After completing her morning exercise routine, she had gone out to do a bit of maintenance in the garden for a bit, then hit the showers. As soon as she had emerged from the bathroom, she had gotten into the cruiser to pick up some groceries. Now she was returning with them. She raised the top and hopped out, neatly arranging the plastic bags so that each side balanced the other’s weight. Phoebe locked up the cruiser and struggled inside with her hands clenched around all of the bag handles.

“Hey, could someone lend a hand!” Phoebe called into the house as she kicked the door open the rest of the way. “Edana, a little help!”

“Edana’s busy!” Rick’s voice called faintly from the direction of the garage.

“Ugggghhh, fuck you, Rick,” Phoebe shouted back. Fingers crying from the direct pressure, she maneuvered her way to the kitchen as quickly as possible, where she set everything on top of the kitchen table with a sigh of relief. Still grumbling, she peered through the open door of the garage. Edana and Rick were both turned toward some project of his. “Rick, Edana,” she greeted, “What the hell are you doing that’s so important?”

“Summer’s—” _belch _“—Summer’s working for The Devil and he gave me some kind of—” _belch _“some kind of cursed microscope. I used it to build a device that will allow me to detect evil. Or, at least, it should. I was just doing some finishing touches on it.”

Phoebe froze, overtaken by a wave of worry. “You have a cursed object? Did you touch it?”

Rick waved a hand dismissively, which worried her even more until he spoke, and then she worried some more. “You have to —” _belch_ “—use the item for the curse to take effect.”

“But you’re still keeping it to for experimentation,” she objected. “What if proximity is enough? Did you think about that, Rick? Are—are you sure that thing doesn’t have some sort of compulsion on it to make you want to use it once you touch it?”

She stepped fully into the garage, groceries temporarily forgotten behind her.

“Eh. Technically I never touched it with my bare skin, so I should be good,” Rick muttered as he and the android continued working on his device. A golden microscope sat on top of a cardboard box that in turn sat on top of a stool. Near it, an empty blue storage crate supported his laptop, which connected to Rick’s device set up directly in front of the microscope. It appeared to be a tripod camera with robotic scanning arms and a reaching claw hand. As she watched, he murmured to Edana and she made adjustments to the microscope and the angle of the device.

“What, you just happened to wear gloves when you got it?” Phoebe fretted, coming to stand closer to Rick. “You have Edana to manipulate it now, but what about before?” She snatched one of his arms by his lab coat and brought his hand close to her face for examination. For all intents and purposes, it looked fine, mostly unmarred besides the calluses and a few pale scars. She dropped it, relieved both that Rick had let her examine it herself without protest and that there appeared to be no visible markings from a curse.

“I may have a few...cybernetic enhancements,” Rick admitted, going back to work. _Which meant no direct skin-to-object contact_. He tightened a bolt, checked the connecting cables, and started up a program. As he did so, Phoebe heard movement in the kitchen as someone dug through the plastic bags on the kitchen table. Turning her head slightly, she spotted Morty removing the fruit roll-ups from one of the bags. Rick had apparently turned at the sound as well, as a moment later he called out to the teenager. “Hey, Morty, lemme—” _belch_ “— lemme—” _belch _“—ask you a question real quick. Does evil exist, and if so, can one detect and measure it?”

Morty walked into the garage still holding onto the box. “Um…” he muttered uncertainly as he opened it and plucked a single-serve packet off the top.

Rick rolled his eyes, then pressed a button on his computer. “Rhetorical question Morty. The answer is yes, you just have to be a genius.”

As Phoebe watched, the device finished scanning the microscope, data appearing on the screen, including information about what curse the microscope apparently contained. Her forehead wrinkled into a frown as a bar measuring intelligence flashed into existence on the laptop screen. She saw that it dropped near zero and her heart nearly stopped. If Rick had been cursed, it would have made him developmentally disabled. He would have a lower intelligence level than Jerry, who was already such a far cry from his current level of intelligence. _Fuck._

“Cute,” Rick scoffed sarcastically, directing his comment to Morty. “Your sister’s boss gave me a microscope that would have made me retarded.” He made a few more adjustments to his device, typing away at his laptop.

Though an apt description, Phoebe still flinched at the word.

She ended up not having to say anything, though, as a moment later Morty mentioned his own discomfort. “Ooh, oh boy Rick, I don’t think you’re allowed to say that word, you know?”

“Uh, Morty, I’m not disparaging the differently abled,” Rick retorted, “I’m stating the fact—” here he clapped his hands together for emphasis— “that if I had used this microscope, it would have made me mentally retarded.” He gestured at his own forehead for more emphasis.

“Actually, you would have been way past the minimum for being medically considered developmentally disabled,” Phoebe disagreed. “This cursed microscope would have given you intelligence lower than a fetus a day before delivery.”

Rick gestured at Phoebe in a way that clearly meant _See, I’m right. _Phoebe’s eyes rolled to the ceiling for a moment. Rick loved being right about things.

“Okay, yeah,” Morty conceded, shrugging, “but I don’t think it’s about logic, Rick. I think the word’s just become a symbolic issue for powerful groups that feel like they’re doing the right thing. Plus, there are alternatives to saying retarded, like what Phoebe used: developmentally disabled, or whatever.”

“Well that’s retarded,” Rick snapped, crossing his arms, clearly cross about Morty pushing the issue. Phoebe sighed but let it go—for now, anyway. She’d tried, after all, and would get nowhere right now with the mood he was in from Morty’s probing. Just then, the garage door lifted open from the outside, revealing Jerry. His eyes narrowed in suspicion at both her and Rick, and Phoebe wondered what new reason he had for regarding them that way. “What are you guys talking about?” Jerry blurted, a paranoid tone to his voice.

“Apparently nothing,” Rick grouched, arms still crossed.

Jerry stomped over with a scowl in place, eyebrows drawn down in either anger or betrayal, placing his hands on his hips as he hissed at Morty, “You asked them if Pluto’s a planet, didn’t you?”

“No!” Morty denied instantly, and really, they hadn’t been discussing anything remotely planet related, let alone whether or not Pluto should be considered a planet.

“It’s not,” Phoebe, Rick, and Edana responded at the same time, glancing at each other as soon as the words left their mouths. “Not anymore, anyway,” Phoebe muttered under her breath, still upset about the change herself. 

“Shut up, Rick, no one asked you,” Jerry growled aggressively. Phoebe, a single brow arched in exasperation and hip cocking up to the side, gave him a look that said _Really? _He had snapped only at Rick despite her and Edana being in agreement with him.

“Whoa,” Rick held up his hands as if physically fending off an attack, clearly not expecting such aggression from Jerry. Usually Jerry acted far more pathetic.

“It is the simple truth,” Edana corrected Jerry cheerfully. “Pluto’s size reduction disqualified it.”

“I don’t care what anyone says,” Jerry snarled, “If it can be a planet, it can be a planet again.” He finished his short, petulant rant, punctuated by furious gestures, by chanting the word planet four extra times, then stormed out as angrily as he came into the garage, but not before Phoebe called out to his retreating back, “That’s not really how it works, Jer.”

Rick rolled his eyes again, adding his own sarcastic remark to the end of her exasperated one. “Stay scientific, Jerry.”

Jerry pretended not to hear either of them and was gone. Rick turned to Phoebe, the light of challenge suddenly entering his eyes. “Since you seem to know so much about curses, why don’t you help me develop a serum that counteracts the effects of one?”

Phoebe, who wore a troubled frown on her face in reaction to Jerry’s behavior, instantly brightened. “Sure, why not. It’s dead useful to be both a biochem major and a practicing witch—” Morty opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, Phoebe cut him off to add— “and _no_, before you ask, not the _Harry Potter_ kind, the real kind, with crystals, candles, graveyard dirt, railroad spikes.”

“Ooh, gee, Phoebe, that sounds cool,” Morty said, “I—I remember your crystal collection, but I didn’t know it had another purpose besides being a hobby.”

Rick gave her an utterly disbelieving look, the arch of his eyebrows giving _her _a _Really? _this time instead of her giving one to Jerry. “You know that witchcraft isn’t exactly scientific, right, Pheebs?”

Phoebe smirked, her hand coming up to clasp his upper arm. “And yet,” she said, stepping closer to him, “you made a machine that detects curses, suggesting that _magic_, or whatever you want to call it, maybe _directed energy_, is a measurable and predictable force.” She gave Rick a shit-eating grin as he scowled first at her, then at Morty, and finally across the room, eyes locking onto the cursed microscope. “Face it Rick, you just proved _magic _exists in some form, that it’s quantifiable, and that it can be manipulated.” She patted the same area of arm she’d been clasping in mock consolation. “Now, about removing the curses…”

Rick’s eyes returned to her face. “Fuck it, whatever, let’s do this.” He smirked. “I have a devil to thwart.”

“That sounds sorta dangerous, Rick. Don’t you think—don’t you think maybe he might take offense to that?”

“I don’t give a shit if he takes offense to it, Morty. The Devil can suck my dick,” Rick spat.

It was once more Phoebe’s turn to give Rick a look. “So curses and magic aren’t scientific to you, but you want to get into a pissing contest with The Devil, who apparently exists despite your insistence that gods and magic don’t.”

Rick shrugged. “I’m not going to out-curse the bastard, I’m going to prove that science is far superior to magic and defeat him with logic.”

Phoebe tossed her head, hands going to her hips as she said smugly, “Mmhm, all right, I guess you don’t want to hear about using biologically safe, non-toxic counter-curse or curse-breaking materials to counteract the effects of his malevolent magic, then?”

Rick’s eyes narrowed at her, then he smirked. “That’s just applying scientific principles to magic.”

Phoebe smirked right back at him. “I never said we couldn’t combine the two. Now, let’s get cracking, Rick.” She turned to Edana, who had watched the three of them in silence. “There are some things I need you to get from my room, Edana. Morty can show you, but first I need you two to put up the groceries…”

XXX

“I need your help again,” Rick said as he returned to the garage. “I want to drive that devil douche out of business.”

“Ah, yes, spite is a powerful motivator,” she said wisely, setting down her notebook and pen, which she had just used to jot down her ideas about the manipulation of bio-electricity as a means of ‘mind control’. Knowing that all brains run on electrical impulses, if one could interrupt, direct, or produce impulses, one could effectively control another individual. She realized it would be a joint project for her and Rick. Rick would see the tech potential and conceptualize what sort of device they would need, and Phoebe would look at it from her angle. Part of her wondered if they should open that, as far as the ethical implications went, can of worms, wondered if they should do something just to see if, or because they knew that, they could.

“Why not let hate and the need to sabotage drive your actions?” Rick leaned his lean body against the shelves, one hip and one shoulder pressed into them.

“Right?” Phoebe got to her feet and slid her hands into her pockets, grinning at Rick. “So, the serum works, huh?” His answering grin told her it had.

“Unfortunately for one evil asshole—” _belch _“—yes,” Rick said in satisfaction, eyes gleaming. He might not be quite happy to swallow the pill about magic existing, but if it helped him crush an enemy, apparently he could learn to live with it—however grudgingly.

“All right, so what now? What’s your next step? I mean, what are you going to do, uncurse every cursed object he owns?”

Rick pushed off of the shelves. “I’m going to do you one better than that, Phoebe. We’re going to make money while we do it. I want to start a business across the street doing just that.”

Phoebe facepalmed. “I was kidding, but if you’re determined, I’ll help you. It shouldn’t be too hard to straighten everything out within a week.”

“A week, Phoebe? No, we’re doing everything by Saturday.”

So they did, few days though that they had. They rented the empty storefront across from Mr. Needful’s—as he was calling himself—shop, Needful Things. Phoebe roped Edana into helping them, and soon they had a functioning store, with stations for analyzing and uncursing the objects. In the meantime, they paid for advertising for a commercial about Curse Purge Plus, the business specifically started to fuck with Needful Things and Mr. Needful. As soon as they opened and their commercial aired on Thursday afternoon, their shop was stormed with people coming directly from Needful Things. Friday afternoon, they accomplished Rick’s goal of driving the shop out of business.

As Rick worked with a client who brought in a set of cursed boxing gloves, Summer stormed in with a box full of items in her arms and a scowl on her face to rival any Phoebe or Rick ever wore. “Looks like we’ve got… haunted boxing gloves that will make you the heavyweight champion, in 1936 and then you’ll be trapped there winning the same fight for eternity. We can take out the eternity, and the padding, and then you’ll have some time travelling mittens,” Rick was saying. 

Phoebe, who was going over the intake list with Edana to process a new string of items, looked up when Summer slammed the box onto the counter by Rick, who greeted her with, “Oh, look, it’s Rosemary’s baby! How’s business?”

“Here’s the last of our inventory. We’re going to file chapter 11 and do some restructuring,” Summer replied, voice tight.

“Sounds like code for ‘_You win, Rick!_’” Rick gloated.

“That was important to you, wasn’t it?” Summer glowered.

“Nope, it was important to your dumb devil friend. To me this was all just a bit like when Bugs Bunny fucks with the opera singer for twenty minutes.”

Phoebe snorted in amusement at the thought of Rick emulating the famous, well-loved rabbit trickster, finally drawing Summer’s attention to her.

“You think this is funny, too, Aunt Phoebe? He tried to kill himself, you know.”

Phoebe tilted her head to the side. “Is that even possible? He’s an immortal supernatural entity.” Instead of feeling panic over his attempted suicide like she would for any normal, mortal person, she felt only curiosity.

“Yeah, apparently it is,” Summer replied waspishly.

“Seriously? Holy crap. Holy crap.” Rick sounded delighted, which would be far more disturbing had this been a normal person and not a fallen archangel.

“But you know what, Grandpa Rick and Aunt Phoebe?” Summer cut in, gesturing. “He’s strong. And he’s never going to give up.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of his thing,” Phoebe commented with an eye roll. “He’s _HaSatan_, ‘The Adversary’, of course he’s a persevering motherfucker.”

“Uh huh, yeah, I don’t care,” Rick commented with a shrug.

Summer’s eyes narrowed at Rick, her hands on her hips. Rick mirrored the pose. “Oh, I know.” She threw her arms up in the air. “Everyone knows you don’t care.”

“Summer, that’s not entirely fair—” Phoebe started.

“So?” Rick challenged, tossing his hands. 

“So… have fun not caring,” Summer finished.

“I always do,” Rick responded, leaning forward.

“Good.”

“Yeah, it is—” _belch _“—good. It’s the best.”

“I’m sure it is. Bye.” She turned her back on them and walked stiffly toward the doors.

“Later!” Rick called after her, not sounding sorry in the slightest that things had taken the turn they had. Summer left without another comment or a backward glance. A customer came up just then, a ticket in hand. “I’m here to pick up my undead cat and child.” Phoebe blinked at him. They really did end up with an odd selection of newly uncursed objects. 

“Yeah, uh, gimmee a sec,” Rick told him.

“The pickup counter is over there,” Phoebe directed the man.

As he left, an employee came up to them, waving a stack of papers at them. “These are the forms for the employee health plan.”

“All right, yeah, uh, put ‘em on my… eh.” At her side, Rick slumped. Phoebe reached for the forms, but Rick stopped her hand with his own. With his other he reached under the counter for a can of gasoline, then dropped her hand. “Phoebe, can you get Edana and then the two of you clear out the register of today’s profit?” His requested sounded alarmingly calm, but Phoebe went to fetch their android companion and gather their most recent earnings. Upon her return to his side, she witnessed as he started to pour gasoline on the floor. He then promptly set it on fire, the flames leaping up hungrily. “I just got bored. Everybody out.”

“Rick, what the fuck!” Phoebe screeched, horrified. “We could have just closed down!”

Rick threw down the now empty gas can and grabbed her wrist. She grabbed Edana on reflex and Rick led them toward the exit as smoke filled the room.

“That would take too damn long,” Rick sneered. “This way is faster, cuts cost and operation time.”

“It’s also dangerous,” Phoebe muttered mutinously.

“But effective,” he returned, opening the door and shoving her, and by proxy, Edana, out in front of him. He stepped out without a backward glance to the burning store as former customers rushed out left and right. “Let’s get dinner,” Rick suggested. “I’m thinking tacos or fajitas?”

Phoebe facepalmed and cradled her forehead in her hand for a moment. “Tell me again how we got here?”

“Accor—” _belch _“according to you, pack-bonding.” From anyone else it would likely translate to _‘because we’re friends.’_

He set off down the street. “I’m buying, just throwing that out there.”

Phoebe straightened up with a sigh. “Well, at least I’ll get tacos out of this.”

XXX

When they got home, Phoebe and Rick each holding a to-go bag, they found Morty waiting for them.

“Um… listen,” he started nervously, “Can you help me do this stupid science fair project?”

“Sure,” Phoebe smiled at him. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Whatever,” Rick shrugged.

In the end, Morty decided to take a little robot that Rick apparently built for the sole purpose of passing the butter. Morty seemed to be _very _done with Jerry for the day and wanted to be alone as soon as possible. He retreated to his room with the robot, relieved to have something to take to the science fair the next day. Phoebe allowed Rick to drag her into the TV room to watch a little interdimensional cable, though first they went into the kitchen to make popcorn and grab some candy. Rick turned the lights off so that it felt a bit more like a movie theater.

“It’s a sad day when even Morty abandons me,” Rick sighed, settling into the couch. He stretched one arm out along the back of it, letting his hand dangle over the other side of the couch.

Phoebe bumped her shoulder against his, careful not to knock any popcorn out of the large bowl in her hands. “Hey, fucker, watch it. I haven’t left you.”

Rick, slightly taller than her, smirked down at her as she got comfortable. “I guess you haven’t.”

“And I won’t,” Phoebe promised, quite serious. Without looking at him, she added, “You know I care about you, right? You’re my best friend.”

A flurry of emotions passed over Rick’s face before he pulled them all down beneath the surface. “Care about me, huh?” Rick sneered. “You know what I think about those kinds of emotions.” 

Phoebe glanced up at him and shrugged one shoulder. “It doesn’t matter whether you try to break down emotions and experiences to only their biological counterparts, Rick. They’re still real. When the human body releases Ghrelin we get hungry. Serotonin deficiency causes depression. Who cares if our lives are based around chemical reactions? The feelings and experiences that accompany them are still real.”

She smiled and sidled up close to Rick, offering him some popcorn and clearly ending the discussion. Rick frowned thoughtfully at the top of her head when she wasn’t looking, though eventually his eyes returned to the screen. They watched programs in the dark, passing the enormous bowl of popcorn between them without another word being spoken. By the time Summer came home, tear-tracks through her makeup, _Ball Fondlers _had come on. Summer flipped the light switch, causing Phoebe to flinch and forcing her to quickly close her eyes so that she could adjust to the light without pain. “Fuck,” she murmured.

“How’s your pretend grandpa doing AKA the devil?” Rick drawled as Phoebe opened her eyes again.

“He dumped me,” Summer sniffed. She’d clearly been crying.

“Ooph, sorry,” Rick said.

“Sounds rough,” Phoebe agreed. She scooted down the couch a little. Rick copied her. Summer shakily made her way over to them and sat down on Rick’s other side, wiping at her face. Phoebe plucked the Kleenex box off of the end table and passed it to her.

“Did we learn a lesson here I’m not seeing?” Summer wondered.

“What, ‘don’t assume you can be pettier than Rick Sanchez?’” Phoebe joked, offering the now half-full bowl of popcorn to her.

Rick elbowed Phoebe gently in revenge. “Hmm, not sure,” he replied.

“Maybe in a much bigger way, Mr. Needful gave us both what we really wanted?” Summer ventured plucking a few fluffy pieces of popcorn off of the top of the remaining pile. “Because I was always jealous of you hanging out with Morty and Phoebe, and you didn’t realize how much you valued my approval?” She popped the popcorn into her mouth.

“No, that’s dumb,” Rick objected at the same time that Phoebe said in surprise, “You’re jealous of me and Morty?”

“You’re right, it’s not satisfying,” Summer agreed. She glanced at Phoebe. “And yeah. I’m not going to say it twice, though.”

Rick’s eyes lit up with another idea that could only mean trouble for Mr. Needful. “I’ll tell you what though, if it’s satisfaction you’re after, I think I might have an idea….” Rick leaned over to whisper in Summer’s ear. Phoebe strained to hear but didn’t catch anything he said to the teen. Summer seemed to be listening intently. “Uh huh…” she said at several intervals, then “Totally? let’s do it!”

“Do what?” Phoebe questioned her.

“Oh, just a grandfather-granddaughter thing,” Rick waved away the question. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Hey, Aunt Phoebe,” Summer said suddenly. “Mr. Needful says you’re a practicing witch. Is that true?”

“Yes.” Phoebe nodded for emphasis.

Summer’s face split into a grin. “Great! Could you maybe curse Mr. Needful?”

Phoebe considered it. “I could certainly try, though I think it might be more productive to set up wards that specifically keep him from entering the house and to bless you so that you’re more successful in your endeavors. Also, cursing the devil sounds like a distinctly bad idea.”

“Cool. That’s all I wanted,” Summer said, sitting back into the couch with a satisfied smirk on her face.

Between herself and Rick, Phoebe was sure that Summer would serve Mr. Needful his own ass on a platter _very_ soon.


	18. The Citadel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rick is framed for 27 murders. OR in which Phoebe meets another Phoebe face to face, and she's not laying bloodied on the garage floor with a dead Rick and Morty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more Rick/Phoebe feels, if you know where to look.

_May_

And just like that, a flurry of activity and exams were over. Thankfully for Phoebe they were done on scantrons, and therefore required little work as far as grading. Considering how carefully she kept ahead of the curve of her workload to account for any Rick-related mishaps, she found herself with little to do except to take her own exams, then once she got through them she nearly collapsed in relief. More than ever she felt gratitude to her slightly younger self for enrolling part time on a tri-semester basis. It made things much more manageable, even if they were faster-paced. When her classes for the spring semester ended, she decided against taking any summer session classes so she could have some breathing room. She went to bed early as soon as the end-of-semester craziness died down. 

As she walked into breakfast the next morning after completing her usual activities, she found everyone else already at the table. She quickly took the seat beside Rick, sitting near him as usual. Morty sat across from him, with Summer at his side and his parents at either end of the table. She glanced at the spread laid out on the table. “Hey, Rick, can you push that trey a little closer and pass the orange juice?”

“What, not even a good morning?” Rick drawled.

Phoebe sighed. “Good morning, Rick, good morning everyone else. Now, Rick, can you please pass the damn food tray and the OJ?”

Rick narrowed his eyes at her but fulfilled her request. As she scooped the steaming breakfast meat and potatoes onto her plate, Beth entered the dining room with one huge platter of silver-dollar pancakes topped by a single birthday candle, and another plate with a much smaller pile of silver-dollar pancakes. “Happy anniversary, Dad!” Beth said with a genuine smile. “And happy anniversary, Phoebe!”

“Oh, an anniversary?” Phoebe perked up. “Of what?”

“Oh, well, I just thought we should celebrate his one-year anniversary of being back in our lives and your nine-month one of coming into them.”

“That’s so sweet, Beth, I appreciate it,” Phoebe thanked her, blushing and slightly embarrassed but very pleased as she accepted her smaller ration of pancakes to eat alongside her other food.

“Oh, I get it,” Rick commented as he accepted his own larger mountain of syrupy goodness, “Regular pancakes are already shaped like flying saucers.” He cut off a bite, speared it, and shoved it into his mouth. “Mm,” he hummed in satisfaction, “I should be making you breakfast for putting up with me.”

“Should be making us a whole restaurant,” Jerry objected petulantly.

“Ugh, Jerry, not today,” Phoebe sighed, beginning to cut into her food.

“Nonsense,” Beth rebuffed Jerry, “We couldn’t be happier to have you around, just like I’m sure Jerry couldn’t be happier to have his younger sister around. I just wish I got to see more of you.”

“I wish I could see more of Phoebe,” Jerry muttered, “but she’s always with Rick and Morty.”

“Not always,” Phoebe shook her head.

“Well, more than I’d like,” Jerry shot back, crossing his arms as he sat back in his chair.

“No one cares what you’d like,” Rick muttered around another mouthful of pancake.

“Jerry, leave my father alone, this is his day.” Beth placed her hand over Rick’s arm, squeezing slightly. A genuine smile slipped onto his features, though it disappeared when a swirling mass of green energy bloomed into existence on the wall opposite him. Phoebe watched, surprised, as three alternate Ricks emerged from the portal, each wearing boots and militaristic lab coats. The Ricks on either side of center held large rifles, and they each had an energy pistol strapped to their right thigh. Phoebe could see some sort of badge on the chest of the Rick in the center, who had his hands behind his back.

The Rick in the center was the one who spoke, addressing Phoebe’s Rick, the Rick she knew from her original reality. “Rick Sanchez of Earth dimension C-137.” He pointed at Rick, and the Ricks on either side of him aimed their rifles at him. “You are under arrest for crimes against alternate Ricks by the authority of the transdimensional Council of Ricks.”

Jerry slammed his fist down on the table and jumped up, crying out indignantly, “Hey! What the heck?”

“Neutralize the Jerry,” center Rick commanded.

Panicked, Jerry yelled, “Wait, no!”

The Rick on the left shot his rifle at Jerry, freezing him.

“Dad!” Summer and Beth exclaimed at once, one calling out to Jerry and one to Rick.

“Rick!” Morty wailed.

“What the everloving fuck is going on here?” Phoebe turned to her Rick for an explanation.

“Everybody relax,” he stood, arms extended and hands held up to show he wasn’t a threat. “If I know these a-holes, and I am these a-holes,” as usual, he threw in his usual level of emphatic gesturing, “they just wanna haul me to their stupid clubhouse and waste my time with a bunch of questions. Let’s get it over with.” He pulled the napkin from his neckline and stood, hands on his hips.

“Their club—you mean the Citadel?” Phoebe whispered at his side.

“Bring his Mo—” _belch_ “—orty.” The Rick in the center pointed at the boy, then looked directly at her and swung his pointing finger in her direction. “And his Phoebe.”

“Oh, man,” Morty moaned despondently as the Rick on the left approached.

“And what if I refuse?” Phoebe leapt to her feet as one of the Ricks grabbed Morty and cuffed him. “I am not a _thing_ to be borrowed or summoned!”

Her Rick placed a calming hand on her shoulder, then pushed her body slightly behind his own. “Leave my—” _belch _“—Morty and Phoebe out of this!” The remaining Rick came around and grabbed her. She slapped him, but he cuffed her raised hand.

“This will be easier for everyone if you just go along with it,” the Rick scowled.

“Fuck you,” Phoebe hissed, trying to jerk away, but he twisted her arm and she screamed. If he pulled too hard one way, he would break it, if he wrenched it another, he would dislocate it. Tears sprang to her eyes at the pain of the hold. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he snarled. “It would be a shame to damage a good Phoebe.” _What the hell? What did that mean?_

“Leave her alone!” Her Rick tried getting to her, but the Rick who had cuffed Morty hit him between his shoulder blades with the butt of his gun, making him stumble and fall to his knees. She watched as that Rick leaned down and quickly cuffed hers.

The Rick restraining her jerked her up and cuffed her while she gasped in pain.

The Rick in the center bared his teeth and snarled at her Rick, arms crossing, “You lost the right to have a say in these things when you refused to join—” _belch_ “—the Council.

“Wait, wh-wh-wh-what about Jerry?” Beth pleaded.

Her Rick sighed, shooting daggers at the one holding her. “Will you at least unfreeze my daughter’s idiot? And stop manhandling my Phoebe! Just because you don’t have one…”

The Rick who arrived in the center unfroze Jerry, glancing at her. “Be a bit more gentle with his Phoebe, G-85. Actually—give her here. You know better than to mishandle a Phoebe, even if you don’t have one.” 

The Rick holding her pushed her toward the commanding one, nearly making her trip. “I’ve got you,” the commander said, stroking her hair once, though it offered her no comfort. It sent a wave of revulsion through her at the wrongness of it. The three Ricks all smelled, looked, and sounded like her own, but they were very obviously _not_ hers. Her Rick had never hurt her, and he’d certainly never stroked her head as if she were Gollum’s precious.

The alternate Ricks, each with a charge, pulled them through the portal. The revolving green energy reached out for Phoebe, and before she knew it they were on the other side, coming face-to-face with another armed Rick. They emerged into a large, open space. On either side lay pools of water, one fed by a waterfall and one with a jet spraying a steam of water up into the air. Glancing behind her, she saw a large statue of Rick sitting on a throne, and tilting her head back she saw multiple levels extending upward, with more alternate Ricks accompanied by alternate Mortys. A black path extended before them.

Next to her, her Morty spoke as the Ricks surrounding them goaded them forward. “Geez, Rick! Wh-what is this place?”

“I know,” Phoebe answered for him, “The Citadel of Ricks. It’s the secret headquarters for the Council of Ricks.” One night Rick mentioned it in passing, though couldn’t be pressed for more information.

“Council of Ricks?” Morty wondered.

Rick answered his next question. “As you know, Morty, I’ve got a lot of enemies in the universe that consider my genius a threat,” he started. As he continued speaking, they passed by other Ricks and Mortys who happened to be on that level of the Citadel. “Galactic terrorists, a few sub-galactic dictators, most of the entire intergalactic government: wh-wherever you find people with heads up their asses someone wants a piece of your grandpa.” The Ricks led them up an escalator, two standing in front and two behind. “And a lot of versions of me on different timelines had the same problem. So a few thousand versions of me had the,” his voice raised in pitch on the next words, “INGENIOUS IDEA OF BANDING TOGETHER,” he yelled, voice then returning to normal, “like a herd of cattle or a school of fish or those people who answer questions on yahoo answers.” 

Phoebe glanced around her during his long-winded rant at the various businesses, including diners, around them, coolly studying the other Ricks and Mortys she passed. Confusingly, wherever she looked was not filled with duplicates of all three of them. In fact, she spotted significantly fewer Phoebes dotted amongst the populace that they happened upon, each looking back at her as curiously as she looked at them. She wanted so badly to ask why there weren’t more of her, but she held back at first, half-fearing the answer.

“Um, Rick—my Rick, C-137,” she finally fortified herself enough to bring it up, biting on her lower lip before continuing. “Why—that is, where are—”

“Hey, what do you know? It’s a cowboy version of me!” Morty noted excitedly, interrupting her.

“Geez, you’re easy to impress,” Rick drawled. “Yeah, most timelines have a Rick, and most Ricks have a Morty. This place is a real who’s-who of who’s you and me.”

“But where am _I_?” Phoebe wriggled between Rick and Morty, turning to look at Rick. “You said most timelines have a Rick, and that most Ricks have a Morty, but where does that leave me?”

Rick sighed. “Well, Phoebe, you’re smart enough to have noticed the uneven ratio of Phoebes to Ricks and Mortys. Not every Rick has a Phoebe in his timeline, just like not every Rick has a Summer, but there are a lot more Phoebes than Summers.”

“Why? There are…a lot less than I imagined.”

Just then a Rick dressed as a salesman interrupted them, shoving her question to the backburner. “Turn your boring old Morty into a hot fashion statement, with some Morty dazzlers!” He followed along with them with strings of medallions in either hand.

A second Salesman-Rick approached, holding up a Morty doll. “Hey, check this out!” He pressed a red button on its chest, prompting it to speak. ‘Show me the Morty!’ the doll exclaimed.

“Dumb,” her Rick scoffed. A third Salesman-Rick approached, this time trying to sell her Rick ‘Morty insurance’, but her Rick rebuffed him with a snarl of “Back off!” He sighed, glancing at Phoebe and Morty. “Not my cup of tea, this place.” His nose wrinkled in distaste as they were pulled into a long hallway. “I say the point of being a Rick is being a Rick.”

“Save your anti-Rick speech for the Council of Ricks, terror-Rick!” snapped the commanding Rick from earlier.

“Hey, save your Rick rules for the—” _belch _“—sheep-Ricks, Rick-pig!” snarled her Rick.

“Fuck me, pal,” the same Rick from before retorted.

“Fuck you? Nonononono, fuck me!” her Rick bit back.

The party of four alternate Ricks surrounding Phoebe and her own Rick and Morty came to the end of the hallway, standing in front of a set of double doors that opened inward to a large Council chamber. They were forced by their escort to walk toward the middle of the chamber, where they stood in front of a raised platform. A row of gold chairs lined it, filled with other Ricks, each with a different hairstyle from her own Rick. One of the chairs between two Ricks was empty, and Phoebe wondered where that Rick could be. Other Ricks and Mortys filled the spectator boxes in the room, with no Phoebes in sight.

A Rick with a thin, pointed goatee and three points of hair to either side and on top of his head commanded loudly, “Bring up the holograms!”

Images sprang into view on the holographic projector, each depicting alternate Ricks, each horribly murdered. Phoebe turned her head away from the sight, not wanting to see another dead Rick. Instead she tried to focus on her own Rick, alive and whole at her side.

“Twenty-seven Ricks brutally murdered in their own timelines,” the same Council Member Rick intoned gravely, “An unprecedented Rick-icidal epidemic. What say you, Earth Rick C-137?”

Her Rick turned to face the accusing Rick, walking towards the platform. “You think I did this? Why am I the first Rick you pull in every time a Rick stubs his toe?”

“You—” _belch _“—have a history of non-cooperation with the Council.”

“Yeah, so does The Scientist Formerly Known As Rick!” her Rick countered. “Wh-wh-wh-why isn’t he here in handcuffs?”

“Because he’s dead too!” announced Tri-hair Council Rick, pointing an accusing finger.

As the photos from that particular murder flashed onto the screen, a horrified ‘no’ echoed around the room, spoken by most of the other Ricks present, including her own.

“Who else would you have us question? You fit the profile. Of all the Ricks in the central finite curve, you’re the malcontent. The rogue.” This Rick gestured as much as her own. She guessed it was just a Rick thing.

Phoebe turned to glare up at the Cynthia-doll-haired motherfucker. “Go fuck yourself with an electric chainsaw, you Cynthia-doll-haired motherfucker,” she hissed at him. “My Rick had nothing to do with any murders!”

The Rick who had been addressing Rick blinked, looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, then looked from Phoebe to Rick with an accusing stare. “You lucky bastard, you have a Phoebe that likes you, that lives and breathes, and you brought her into your treachery?” _A Phoebe that likes him? A Phoebe that lives and breathes?_

Her Rick stepped squarely in front of her, blocking the other Rick from her sight—and her from his. “Leave her out of this and listen to me, dicks for breath. I’m the Rick. And so were the rest of you before you formed this stupid alliance. You wanted to be safe from the government so you became a stupid government. That makes every Rick here less Rick than me. Not one of you has the right to say anything about my Phoebe or to stand there accusing me like the dumbest, smuggest prick in the universe.”

The gathered crowd of non-Council Ricks set to murmuring protests and outraged remarks.

“Yeah, murmur it up, d-bags. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got pancakes back home with syrup on top of them. They’re about to hit that critical point of syrup absorption that turns the cakes into a gross paste. And I hate to get all Andy Rooney about it, but I think we all like fluffy discs of cake with syrup on top! And I think we also like to be accused of crimes when there’s evidence! So as they say in Canada, peace oot!”

“Evidence?” Tri-hair Rick breathed, “Good idea. Scan his portal gun!”

One of the armed Ricks, the one from the center, Phoebe thought, though she couldn’t be sure, stuck his hand into her Rick’s lab coat, withdrawing his portal gun. He walked towards a machine underneath and behind the hologram screen. 

Her Rick protested weakly as they set it into a cradle, “Oh, come on. Don’t look at another man’s portal gun history. We-we all go to weird places.”

As they watched, a map of timestamps and locations appeared on the screen, replacing the gory crime scene photos. Some entries flashed green, while others flashed red. Phoebe assumed the red flashes meant bad news, especially given the triumphant, cat-that-got-the-canary look on Tri-hair’s face. “Yes, but it appears you alone have been going to the exact timelines and locations in which the murders occurred!” he crowed.

“What? That’s Rick-diculous. I’m obviously being set up!”

“Of course you’re being set up!” Phoebe snapped, shouldering past him to glare fully at Tri-hair Rick for the second time that day. “I’m Phoebe Johnson, also of C-137, and I can vouch for my Rick with absolute certainty.”

“Oh, really?” Tri-hair Council Rick scoffed. “What about the evidence we have right in front of your eyes?”

“Well, there’s not only one version of me, is there? I mean, I know there are more, I saw them in other parts of the Citadel!” 

“...No,” a different Rick replied. “You’re right. There is more than one Phoebe.”

“We all know there are other Phoebes. Get to your point,” Tri-hair urged, waving one hand in a hurrying motion. “I want to get to sentencing.”

“My _point, _Rick Douchebag-Mc-Fuckmuffin, is that if there’s more than one Phoebe, then you ought to know that the _only _person who spends as much time with Rick as Morty does is _me_!” Phoebe exclaimed in exasperation. “That’s why he couldn’t _possibly_ have done what you’re accusing him of! I would have noticed him disappearing at random for odd chunks of time, much less being gone long enough to commit a murder! The locations must be a coincidence or a false positive—or just planted altogether.” She exhaled huffily, then smirked and added nastily, “Also, your hair makes you look like one of the stars people put on the top of their Christmas trees.” At her side, her Rick snickered at her last sentence.

“How do we know you aren’t lying for your Rick?” A new voice cut into the conversation, working to instantly silence her Rick’s snickers. The new voice made Phoebe freeze. It wasn’t another Rick, or even a Morty. The voice was feminine, familiar. Phoebe craned her neck to see the speaker, someone who had the same face that Phoebe saw in the mirror every day. Another Phoebe had entered the chamber behind them, and she stood in the entrance. She was dressed like the high-ranking Ricks on the council, in the same type of robe in the same colors. Unlike Phoebe herself, this alternate version of her had long, thin dreadlocks styled into an intricate updo. She had a large chunk of Amethyst that rested between her collarbones, hanging from a cord circling her neck.

As Phoebe watched, her alternate self walked closer to where she stood with her Rick and Morty. She came to a stop directly in front of Phoebe, who, aside from the time she found herself staring down at her own corpse, had yet to be directly confronted by another version of herself, as she had only seen the others from a distance. Phoebe thawed a bit from the shock of seeing herself—alive this time—and answered her question with a question. “Why do you think I would lie?”

The other Phoebe smiled, and while it wasn’t comforting, it was oddly knowing, as if she had knowledge Phoebe herself did not, though she looked no older. “Because it’s what I would do,” she said. “I would protect my Rick.” She sighed. “You see, Phoebe C-137, of the Phoebes that know a Rick, things go one of two ways. They either have affection for their Rick, or they loathe him.” She looked over the small group from C-137. “I would say you’re in the majority of Phoebes, and that you’re a Phoebe who has affection for her Rick, whatever kind of affection it may be. Very few—only a handful, really—hate their Rick, but it happens.”

Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

In response, the foreign Phoebe only carefully studied her face. “You really believe he’s innocent,” she said after a moment, avoiding the question, “but just because you _think_ you’re telling the truth doesn’t mean you _are_.” She sighed. “I do so hate to see anything happen to a Rick, especially after...but that’s neither here nor there.”

She turned to go away, but Phoebe reached out and grasped her robe between her cuffed hands. “Wait! Why are there less of us here? And if you care about Rick, why won’t you give this one a chance?”

The other Phoebe turned back to her, a sad but understanding look on her face. “I asked that, too, when I first got here. There are lots of reasons. Some of us are dead, some of us are still children and have never met a Rick, some of us were never born at all, and some, as I already told you, do not have the best relations with their Rick.” An even sadder smile crossed her features. “But some of us _more _than like our Rick,” she murmured, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing at one of the fingers on her left hand. It had a suspicious tan line near the base. “Mine died, and while I could claim another Rick, I just don’t have the heart. None of them are _my_ Rick. You understand.” She looked between Phoebe and her Rick. “Again, it’s just too bad that yours has to be punished, but I’m sure if you wanted you could have ten Ricks in an hour.”

She stepped around Phoebe to gently caress Rick’s face (Rick appeared so stunned by the action that he didn’t have time to react before it was overd), then turned to face the rest of the Council, the only Phoebe with a seat amongst them. There were no Mortys on the Council at all. “Proceed to sentencing,” she called up to them.

That was the only encouragement that Tri-hair Council Rick needed. He leapt to his feet. “Earth Rick C-137!” he roared, “The Council of Ricks sentences you to the machine of unspeakable doom, which swaps your conscious and unconscious minds, rendering your fantasies pointless while everything you know becomes impossible to grasp. Also every ten seconds it stabs your balls.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Phoebe’s Rick interjected. He shoved his elbow into the stomach of the Rick behind him, then threw him over his head and into the Rick next to him. In the struggle he’d stolen that Rick’s weapon, which he used to shoot off all of their bonds. The other Council Phoebe grabbed for her, so Phoebe slapped her across the face then shoved her onto the floor.

“Run, Morty!” Rick yelled at their Morty, pulling on Phoebe’s wrist. “Phoebe, come on!” She didn’t have to hear it twice. Rick snagged his portal gun from the cradle it sat in when they sprinted past it. They dashed towards the exit, escaping into the hallway.

“Oh my gods, Rick, what do we do?” Phoebe wondered. “This isn’t like running from a monster or something, we’re running from _you_.”

“We try to get to the bottom of this and clear my name,” Rick responded.

As they shot through an intersection with another hall, Ricks poured out from both directions, following hot on their heels.

“_Fuck_, there are like _ten_ of them,” Phoebe yelled. 

“Aaaaah!” Morty screamed.

“Just keep running, Morty,” Phoebe encouraged him.

Rick started activating portals left and right along the walls as they flashed past them. Looking back over her shoulder briefly, Phoebe witnessed several Ricks being encumbered by things that fell or reached through the portals from the other side: fire, a swarm of wasps, tentacles, falling objects. The cries of the Ricks being picked off echoed down the hall after the three C-137 fugitives. There were still too many Ricks pursuing them for her comfort, but he’d taken out over half of them. “That was savage,” Phoebe remarked.

“Well, I can’t let them catch us,” Rick returned.

“It’s not a criticism,” Phoebe replied, “just an observation.” They turned a corner and found themselves nearing a balcony. “Fuck fuck _fuck_, what are we going to—”

“Just trust me, Phoebe, and jump when I do,” Rick interrupted.

They kept running straight for the railing. Phoebe had confidence that Rick wouldn’t choose jumping to his death as a way out of their predicament, so she readied herself to jump. They soared off of the railing together, Morty screaming and Phoebe using all of her will to force her eyes to stay open as they fell. Rick activated a portal underneath them and they sailed through it, landing on, of all things, a giant ass protruding from the ground. It broke their fall, bouncing them like a trampoline. The three rolled off, mercifully landing on their feet, but only had a moment to look around before another portal flashed open and alternate Ricks—and an alternate Morty—poured out after them.

“Shit,” Phoebe muttered, taking off with her two companions. Morty continued to make sounds of distress as they ran. Her Rick opened another portal, this one summoned in a rather unfortunate place—the space between two cheeks of another giant ass, as they were apparently in some sort of weird world filled with asses as landmarks. _They wouldn’t really be going inside_, Phoebe comforted herself as they plunged into the portal. It opened into a living room where two pizza-slice people sat in chairs, staring at them with wide, alarmed eyes. Rick opened another portal directly across from them at the door, and they dashed through it too, repeating the process in a world full of grease-covered old women who they had to dodge around to get to a wall, where Rick shot the portal into existence. The next portal jump took them through a room with two phone people sitting on pizza-slice seats, then to an odd dimension that looked eerily similar to Dr. Seuss’ work. Hump-backed, furry, beak-faced creatures roamed around, most of them repeating the same word, ‘Doopidoo’, over and over. None of them seemed very intelligent, standing around with their tongues lolling only saying the one word.

The other Ricks and Mortys hadn’t caught up with them yet. Her Rick fired off six shots in quick succession, activating six new portals at once. He grabbed onto her and Morty and pulled them through the last one to open in an attempt to throw their pursuers off their trail. They stepped into another one of the weird sentient-object dimensions, this time confronted with chair people sitting on fake humans. “That’ll keep ‘em—” belch “—busy for a while,” Rick assured them, opening the door to the house and slipping outside. Phoebe spared one backward glance for the stunned, terrified chair people and followed him out with Morty close behind her.


	19. The Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of their time in the lair of Evil Morty and Evil Rick.

_May_ ~ Part Two~

Phoebe agreed with Rick’s suggestion to lay low for a bit. “I just wish I had my portal gun with me,” she sighed in frustration, twirling a loose curl around her finger, then releasing it and letting it spring back into shape. She hadn’t expected for them to be arrested and hauled off during breakfast, or else she could help them hide, cloaking them under the safety of her unregistered portal gun. Not to mention that with no knives except the ones that could fit in her boots and only the senbon holding her hair in place, Phoebe felt naked. Rick handed over one of the weapons in his pocket, an electrocution pistol, but there was just something about having a blade in her hand that felt more natural, that felt like home, though she felt thankful she had _something_ useful in her possession now. Morty’s voice broke into her thoughts as they passed an upholstery shop and a homeless chair person. “Those guys were wrong, right? You don’t—you wouldn’t kill yourself… y-yourselves?”

“Pff-ugh, of course they were wrong, Morty. Have more faith in Rick than that!” Phoebe admonished him in a low tone.

Rick seemed equally offended. “‘Course not, Morty! Listen to Phoebe, and think—how could that profit me? Someone out there is killing Ricks, and the Council ain’t gonna stop thinking it’s me until we clear our names, like I mentioned earlier.”

They stopped in front of an ale house. Over Morty’s shoulder, she could see some of the patrons staring at them through the window, but she ignored them in favor of looking at Rick and Morty. “We need to find the real Rick killer,” Phoebe added, laying a hand on Morty’s shoulder.

“I’m scared, guys!” Morty clasped his hands in front of him. “Maybe we should go home and stockpile weapons like that show Doomsday Preppers.”

Rick instantly objected. “Not really my style, Morty. Besides, your home is most likely swarming with Ricks right now.”

“He’s right, Morty,” Phoebe shook her head, “none of us will be safe until we do this. It’s not just about Rick, although of course we should do this for Rick.” She met Rick’s eyes over Morty’s head and smiled at him grimly but encouragingly. “We have to do this for all of us, like—like the Fellowship of the Ring, like the Three Musketeers. All for one and one for all, and all that bullshit.”

“Yeah—” _belch_ “—what Phoebe said, Morty. We’re a team, and when one of us is fucked six ways to Sunday, all of us are.”

“Exactly, Rick, I mean, who chased off that spider monster when it almost ate you two, huh? That was me, coming through for you two. And who shut down that gross-ass rapey jellybean fucker when he went after Morty? We did!”

“Y-you did?” Morty asked, voice tremulous. “Y-you killed Mr. Jellybean? For me?”

“Yeah, Morty, yeah,” Phoebe nodded, kneeling down to his level. “When you came back to us we knew something was wrong. No one messes with our Morty, so me and Rick had to fuck him up for what he did. And remember when you and Rick knocked off that guard that was sneaking up behind me? That’s teamwork, Morty. We come through for each other.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Phoebe,” Morty hesitantly agreed. “We _are_ a team.”

“Great!” Phoebe straightened up from her lowered position.

“We should get off the street while I do some investigating,” Rick said, “It’ll keep us from being spotted right away, and we can all rest while I figure out how some jackass clowned me.” He scowled bitterly.

“What about this restaurant here?” Phoebe pointed at one a few doors down from where they currently stood.

“Sounds good,” Rick agreed. 

The three of them walked there as quickly as they could without arousing suspicion, entered, and were seated by a very confused Hostess chair person. They placed an order, then sat together on their human-shaped seats as Rick removed a screwdriver from his pocket and started to fiddle with his portal gun. Phoebe slipped away to the bathroom for a few minutes, where she was relieved to find that things were set up mostly the same, except the chair people had toilets of a different size and shape, and she had to bend nearly in half to reach the sink. She splashed water onto her face and stood trying to orient herself. Unlike some of their other adventures, the whirlwind of the day took them by complete surprise. The closest adventure she had to compare would be their efforts to reclaim Summer when she was kidnapped to Gazorpazorp. Usually they had some warning, some choice: they would open a portal, or get in the cruiser, and then things would get hairy later. This morning, probably more like an hour or two ago, if she were honest about the passage of time, however, they had been sitting at the breakfast table eating in the dining room when all hell broke loose. Phoebe collected herself and left the bathroom.

“You all right?” Rick said as she sat down, not looking up from the portal gun.

“Yeah, just a bit of a mindfuck to be dragged out of your home during breakfast and hauled along like a criminal only to end up in a courtroom, but obviously it’s worse for you because you were the accused.” She glared down at the white and red tablecloth as if it had personally offended her. “It’s just such bullshit.”

“I know this has got to be rough, Phoebe, but just hang in there. The Ricks are probably gonna waste some time messing with Jerry, because they won’t be able to help themselves. But as soon as they get bored they’ll be on to us, so we don’t have much time.”

“I know, Rick,” Phoebe murmured, tracing a loose thread on the tablecloth. “I know.” Rick took a moment from work to touch a hand to her arm, then went right back to what he was doing. The small gesture said more than he could have at the moment, and it mollified Phoebe until the food arrived.

“Phones á la clams, and phonesgetti with phoneballs,” the waiter said as he set down the plates of odd phone-based food. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, more phonesticks please,” Rick said, shaking the basket.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter responded, gliding away to fill the request.

Phoebe sighed, then looked at Morty. “It’s weird to think that some versions of me don’t hang out with the two of you, Morty. I can’t imagine living any other way, now. When I graduate I’m going to see if I can live somewhere close by in your area. I mean, I have my own portal gun now, but I really just want the physical proximity to be able to go over to your house on a whim, you feel?”

“Yeah, I feel,” Morty responded. “But, that makes me think of something else. You know, Rick, Phoebe, when I first saw all those Ricks and Mortys, I thought ‘gee, that kinda devalues our bond.’” He’d looked despondent at first, but then perked up. “But then I realized that just means that our relationship must be pretty special to span over all those different timelines.”

Phoebe felt a pang in her chest as she remembered what Council Phoebe had said about their other selves. _Why _weren’t _all of them with a Rick and Morty, aside from the dead ones? And speaking of which, why were some of their selves dead? Why did some Phoebes hate Ricks? What had caused some Phoebes to never be born?_

“Yeah, it’s gotta be that way for you and me, buddy. You’re a camouflage.” Eh? She stopped brooding to look questioningly at Rick.

“Camouflage?” Morty spluttered. “Wh-wh-what are you talking about, Rick?”

“Yes, explain, please,” Phoebe presses.

“Ricks have a very distinct and traceable brainwave due to our genius,” Rick replied as he reassembled the portal gun. “The best way to hide from an enemy’s radar is to stand near someone with complementary brainwaves that make ours invisible.” He inspected it for defects, no doubt making sure it would still work, then took a pen out of his coat pocket with one hand, which he then used to draw two different wavelengths, one on top of the other, on the napkin. “See, wh-wh-when a Rick is with a Morty, the genius waves get cancelled out by the uh,” he cleared his throat before finishing his sentence, “Morty waves.”

“So what do my brainwaves do?” Phoebe looked at Rick curiously.

“They—they sort of…” Rick’s lips twisted. “They sort of harmonize, I guess you’d say.”

Phoebe blinked at him. “They...harmonize?”

“Um…” Morty waved his hands around to catch their attention, “are Morty waves complimentary...because… our personalities are so different?” Morty ventured.

Instead of answering him, Rick, who was still looking at the portal turn, exclaimed, “Oh, shit dog! My portal gun was hacked remotely, Morty, obviously by the real killer to frame me. But I was able to trace the signal. Come on, let’s go!” He jumped to his feet. Morty, frowning with uncertainty, and Phoebe, frowning in thought, both stood to follow him. They turned to leave, but spotted two alternate Ricks and an alternate Morty by the door speaking to the hostess.

“Uh-oh!” Rick whispered.

“Fuck,” Phoebe muttered, then something caught her eye. “Rick, look, over there,” she whispered, nudging him and pointing. “You and Morty need to take off your shirts.”

He glanced over, a smirk spreading across his face a moment later as he saw what she saw—passable lookalikes that could be used as a decoy to draw attention away from their escape. “Morty,” he said softly to avoid attracting attention as he quickly ducked down and removed his shirt and lab coat. “Take off your shirt and put it on that chair over there that looks like you.”

“Um, what?” Morty said. Phoebe sighed, reaching forward to pull his shirt over his head herself.

“Hey!” Morty objected as she tossed the garment to Rick.

She grabbed his hand and tugged him into the floor next to Rick. “We can make it to the side door if we hurry, they’re still not looking,” she whispered, glancing at the Ricks and Morty by the door. “Come on.”

Bent low, half-crawling and half-running, they made it to the side door and outside. “There!” Rick hissed at them, “Their cruiser! We can take it and kill two birds with one stone.”

A sprint that covered less than five feet and they were hopping into the craft. It soon rose into the air. Rick flipped off the other Ricks and Morty as they ran out, frantic and cursing. Phoebe stuck her tongue out at them and flipped them off too, then rolled down her window to give them a piece of her mind. “Team C-137 says _fuck you _for fucking with us, you fucking fucks!” She yelled out to them just before the cruiser, piloted by Rick, sped away.

“Assholes,” she muttered as she sat back, rolling her window back up. “Fucking assholes.”

Rick scoffed. “What did you expect from a small nation populated in large part by Ricks?”

Phoebe shrugged, sliding down in her seat. “I guess I didn’t realize just how much Ricks hated each other—which is to say themselves.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” he sneered.

Phoebe flipped him off and threw one arm across her eyes. “Wake me when we get there or if we have to kick someone’s ass,” she murmured, voice muffled. “I’m going to take a nap.”

XXX

“_Hey, Phoebe, wake up_,” Rick’s voice slithered through her confusing dream, dragging her back into consciousness. 

“Hmm? What?” she whispered hoarsely, sitting up with a sigh and a stretch. She glanced at Rick and Morty and noticed they had replaced the clothes they left behind at the diner. “Hey, you found clothes that look like the ones you lost.”

“Yeah, some space outlet,” Morty replied glumly, arms crossed.

“Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” Phoebe peered at him in concern.

“Oh, not much,” Morty replied in a tone of voice that denoted that something was very obviously bothering him. “Just a little upset that Ricks use us Mortys for human cloaking devices.”

Rick sighed wearily. “Morty, you’re still making a bigger deal out of this than it is. The whole complementary brainwave thing is only part of it.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s the other part?” Morty challenged.

“How loveable you guys are,” Phoebe cut in, grabbing him and hugging him to her side.

“Phoebe, not now,” Morty moaned, pushing her away from him.

“Oh, come on, Morty, are you that mad at Ri—what the fuck is that noise?”

“Um...I think it’s screaming,” came Morty’s tremulous, uncertain reply.

“Rick?” Phoebe glanced at him, then glanced out of the front window as a dome came into view.

“Holy mother of fuck,” Phoebe gasped when they could see it more clearly.

“Oh my god, Rick, look! There’s a bunch of people strapped all over that building!” Morty yelped in dismay.

“Not just people, Morty,” Phoebe breathed in horror as she sat forward.

“They’re all Mortys,” Rick said, sounding as horrified as Phoebe despite his usual careful concealment of emotion.

Nude Morty’s, all chained down and being tortured via a device that stabbed into their sides, covered the entire surface of the dome, a black structure that gleamed malevolently in the available sunlight. Each Morty screamed and writhed in agony as the little arms drove thick metal spikes into the same gaping wounds, deepening and worsening them. Blood covered their sides in thick swaths and tears streamed down their faces from bloodshot eyes. Some Mortys made no sound, but those were the ones who had undoubtedly screamed themselves hoarse rather than from a lack of trying. Phoebe felt sick to her stomach, but couldn’t look away. “Oh my Kali, what the fuck, _what the **fuck**_!”

Morty seemed like he might actually faint. “Oh my god… wh-why would somebody do this? It’s horrible!”

“Well, one Morty’s enough to hide from the bureaucrats,” Rick explained as he took them down to land. “But you g- you get a whole matrix of Mortys and put ‘em in agonizing pain. That creates a pattern that can hide even from other Ricks, motherfucker. I fiddled with a—” _belch_ “—concept like this once.”

Morty gave Rick a disturbed, disbelieving look as the cruiser settled to a gentle stop, firmly on the ground.

“You…‘fiddled with the concept,’” Phoebe repeated faintly, slightly disturbed herself as she looked at him.

Rick facepalmed. “On paper, you two, on paper! I’m not _that_ heartless. I wouldn’t do this, it’s barbaric overkill!” As an afterthought, he added while disembarking, “I mean, you could accomplish the same result with like five Mortys and a jumper cable….” He broke off when he received a facepalm from Phoebe and an outright glower of death from Morty**.** “Which I also wouldn’t do!” Rick hastily assured them. “I’m just saying, it’s bad craftsmanship.”

“Oh my _gods_ you could have kept that train of thought to yourself,” Phoebe sighed as she got out with Morty.

“Look, can we just—can we just drop this? We need to sneak into this asshole’s evil lair, kick his ass, and then bounce him to the Citadel.”

“Sure, let’s just go in,” Phoebe agreed wearily.

“Fine,” Morty agreed petulantly.

Getting in was easy enough—_too _easy, Phoebe personally thought as they wandered through the system of cave-like halls. She slipped past a loudly complaining Morty to be at Rick’s side as Morty started in on Rick. “Y-you know what Rick?” Morty called, “I don’t think you care about me at all! I’m no different than that jacket you’ve got on! Y-y-or-or your stupid portal gun! I’m just a tool! I-I’m just an object!”

“It was way too easy to get in,” she addressed him in a barely audible tone. “Either this guy is just that cocky or we’re being lured into a trap.”

“You’re probably right,” Rick agreed, speaking just as quietly, “But we don’t have a choice.” Louder so that Morty could hear, but not nearly as loud as Morty, he said, “Hey, it’s your choice to take it personally, Morty. Now for the love of god, be quiet! The point of this is to get the drop on the guy!”

Phoebe stopped dead, whirling around and shooting Morty an irritated look as well. “Hey, a little bit louder, I don’t think the next five planets have heard you yet.” She tried tempering her annoyance a little bit. “I love you, Morty, but I swear it feels like you want this crazy asshole to kill us and hook you up to the weird ass torture device more than you want to kick his ass!”

“I just want to make it clear to Rick that I’m more than a human shield!” Morty snapped back, stomping his foot.

“You’re absolutely right, Morty,” Rick snarled, “Besides being a perfect impenetrable sheet of human armor because you’re as dumb as I am smart, right now you’re being a pain in my ass!”

Phoebe rounded on Rick and gave him a withering look. “That was cruel, Rick,” she rebuked him softly. “You went _way_ too far.”

“Y-y-you-re such a jerk!” Morty yelled, hands balling into fists. His lip quivered and he looked dangerously close to tears.

The sound of feed skittering over stone disrupted the heated argument taking place between them. Phoebe’s body immediately poised itself for fighting or fleeing.

“Oh, Morty, you’ve done it now,” Rick continued. “Something heard us.”

“Are you happy now?” Phoebe grumbled, “Will you _both _be quiet now, pretty fucking please with a godsdamned cherry on top?” While Morty had been louder than she would have liked on his own, shouting at each other in increasing volume certainly hadn’t helped the matter.

“Pfft, too late for that,” Rick muttered.

“No, definitely not happy,” Morty responded glumly, looking around fearfully as he blinked away tears before they could fall.

“Well, brace yourself,” Phoebe told him as doors along the hall opened and strange purple creatures emerged, each with an exoskeleton, pincers, and multiple legs. It would be a close-quarters fight, one that would have been better fought with her blades. “Rick, I need to get higher, help me up.” He gave her a look but quickly gave her a boost as she climbed up one of the tree-like structures on the side of the hall and sat in the dip between two branches. She pulled the electrocution pistol from her waistband and waited for a clear shot. As Rick started fist-fighting the creatures, she took aim and shot three dead. There were only five or six, with Rick doing surprisingly well and clearing the other half, but then a second wave came. 

Phoebe got off one or two more shots before she saw a door open and another Rick and Morty emerge, accompanied by two more creatures, as the creatures surrounding the other two members of team C-137 closed in on the pair. She crouched down in the dip trying not to be seen as the alternate Rick and Morty approached. As they did, the Rick, who she noticed wore a black shirt rather than Rick’s typical choice of light blues, had a jagged scar crossing the right side of his face and purple bruises underneath his eyes, started to slow clap. “Ooh, look at you, C-137! You’re—aren’t you a tough customer?” Either he hadn’t noticed her yet or he was waiting for an opportune moment to have her apprehended. He seemed focused on her Rick.

“The slow clap? Really? Kinda played out, dude,” Rick sneered.

“Not in this dimension it isn’t,” the other Rick sneered back. “In fact, hah, I invented it and nobody else has ever even done it here before.”

“Well lah-dee-dah,” her Rick mocked, slow clapping himself only to have his hands slapped by the other Rick with a protest of “Hey, that’s mine!”

Phoebe was starting to think she hadn’t been noticed. She slowly shifted her aim, intent on shooting down the alternate Rick and Morty if given the chance. No matter where she shot them, head or center mass, they would be electrocuted, so it mattered little. She turned up the charge to maximum voltage, taking aim at the chest of the Rick. Her had slid onto the trigger, ready to take the shot, when suddenly the other Morty looked up, his eye—only one, as the other was covered by an eye-patch—landing on her.

Faster than she thought possible, the other Rick punched hers in the face then grabbed her Morty, spinning him around and pulling a long hunting knife on him, pressing it to his throat. “Don’t fucking think about it if you want your Morty to live,” he growled, looking right at her and quite obviously speaking directly to her. His eyes slid to her Rick. “So, C-137, you have a Phoebe. I’d wondered about that. None of the Ricks I got the jump on had one. You’re the first.” His eyes returned to Phoebe appraisingly, his Morty not having stopped staring. Her Rick rose shakily to his feet, glaring at the opposing Rick. “I wonder what’s so special about you, Phoebe.” The other Rick lightly pressed the blade into Morty’s throat, scraping the skin. A small drop of blood slowly trailed downward, Morty’s eyes wild with panic.

“Rick,” her Morty whimpered. “Phoebe.”

Rick stared calculatingly between her perch and the alternate Rick, knowing he was in no position to intervene.

“Why should I listen to you? I could just shoot you in the fucking head,” Phoebe hissed.

“Even if you do, what’s to say I won't be faster?” the Rick taunted silkily. “Even if you shoot me, I can still just slit his pathetic throat before you have a chance to save him.”

She heard a pistol cock, and her eyes darted toward the source of the noise to see that the other Rick’s Morty had a pistol trained on her Rick—right at his heart, actually—who slowly raised his arms in surrender with a scowl.

Her aim shifted onto his Morty. “Then I’ll just kill your Morty.” She shrugged. “Seems fair.”

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “But yours will still be dead, and the gun might go off anyway. Even Ricks need beating hearts.”

“There are more Mortys where he came from,” Phoebe bluffed, “Mortys are a dime a dozen. I’m sure we could just grab one of the poor little bastards you’ve been torturing and they’ll come with us willingly.”

“Ah, Phoebe, please!” her Morty begged, and though she tried to ignore him she glanced down at him.

The other Rick smiled dangerously. “A valiant effort at a bluff, but I can see it in your eyes. You _care _about this Morty, and we both know you can’t risk your Rick being injured.” His dangerous smile widened. “But I can see now why Ricks take an interest in Phoebes.” Keeping a firm hold on Morty with the arm of his free hand, he held that hand out to her. “Come down, dear, you’re just prolonging the inevitable.” As if for emphasis, he let the knife nick Morty’s throat again. The boy cried out in pain and fear, another drop of blood trailing down his pale throat.

If she took a shot at the Rick, he would slit Morty’s throat, and his Morty would likely still shoot her Rick. If she took a shot at the Morty, he would shoot her Rick and his Rick would slit her Morty’s throat. Both options ended in failure, as at least one of them would die if not both, and she would be alone. She _might _succeed in saving _one _of them, but not both. She had no choice. She grudgingly slid down the tree, approaching the odd hostage situation. The Rick’s eyes raked over her with interest. “You made the right choice,” he said. He made a gesture with his free hand, and suddenly a claw came down on her shoulder from behind with enough force to send her to the floor.


	20. Thank Fuck for Mortys

_May_ ~ Part Three~

The direct hit happened to be to the shoulder of her gun-hand, and it instantly disarmed her. Stars briefly exploded behind her eyes when her hands and knees slammed into the hard stone floor, the electrocution pistol shooting out of her hand and skittering away from her. “_Gàn_,” she screamed, curling in on herself in pain. “_Cào nǐ mā!_” This was the second time today that an alternate Rick caused her physical pain and it was _not_ endearing them to her.

Distantly, she noted that the opposing Morty picked up the electrocution pistol, put the safety on and tucked it into his waistband. Suddenly, blue flashed in her peripheral vision and her Rick was at her side, an arm around her shoulders. “Phoebe, are you all right?” Concern laced through his words.

“I’m fine,” she forced between grit teeth to avoid making any more embarrassing noises. She didn’t want the other Rick to know how much he hurt her (though that ship likely sailed when she screamed), and she sure as hell wouldn’t cry for him. She would _not_ give him the satisfaction. For all she knew he was a sadist who would get off on any pain or fear she displayed, so she tried convincing herself that it didn’t hurt all that much. The truth was that her knees throbbed as if someone had whaled on them with a mallet. Rick squeezed her shoulder consolingly, not under any illusions as to whether or not she was as fine as she pretended to be.

“While this is touching,” the other Rick drawled, “I’m afraid we have to cut this sort.” He said something in an alien language, and then in short order Phoebe and Rick found themselves seized by the odd lobster-like beings, one delicately holding each of their arms between their pincers. The alternate Rick released her Morty from his hold, letting him drop to the floor with a dull thud and a whimper. A moment later and one of the odd henchmen picked him up by the back of his rumpled shirt. With the three of them restrained, the opposing Rick and Morty started walking, a wall of lobster-like alien henchmen forming between them and the immobilized team C-137, with another section closing rank behind them.

“Fucking fuck,” Phoebe sighed. “Out of the wolf’s den, into the tiger’s mouth.”

“That’s the biggest understatement of the century,” Rick replied. He cut his eyes at her. “Why didn’t you take the shot?”

“Because I couldn’t risk losing either one of you. You’re too important to me,” Phoebe confessed. “We all get out or none of us do. I meant all that team crap, Rick.”

“No I mean why didn’t you take the shot _before_?”

“Because they saw me and I like you both better with all of your blood in your body and no mortal wounds.”

Rick smiled thinly. “Well thank fuck for that at least.” He looked ahead of him at the back of the other Rick. “I don’t like the look of that Rick. Or the way he looked at you, for that matter, Phoebe. Guy’s a total creep. We gotta escape.”

“Yeah, and fast,” Phoebe agreed. “He’s already shown that he has no compunctions against injuring any of us, and I’m worried about how far he’ll go with Morty.”

“Probably torture, he’s obviously fine with that.” Rick looked at Morty. “If you see an opportunity, Morty, take it.”

“I’m not gonna help either of you, Rick,” Morty pouted stubbornly. “Y-you’re both assholes. I-I’m just a replaceable tool to you.”

“Oh for fu—you do realize I was _bluffing_?” Phoebe exclaimed in disbelief.

Rick groaned. “Don’t be Rick-diculous, Morty.”

“W-will you stop saying that? It’s stupid.”

Their conversation was cut short by the other Rick speaking to his Morty. “Take his Morty away.”

“Come with me,” the Morty said, leading Morty away.

“Yeah, gladly,” Phoebe heard him remark. “Geez man, Ricks huh?”

“Now,” the other Rick murmured, walking through the band of henchmen to stand in front of Phoebe. He reached out to caress her left cheek with one finger of his right hand. “What to do with you, hmm, Phoebe?”

She sighed and turned her face into his hand, pressing her lips against his palm as if for a kiss. The Rick smirked as she smiled at him, but the smirk quickly vanished when, swift as a striking serpent, she bit down on the fleshy part of his palm, her teeth sinking into his skin. He snatched his hand back, glaring at her. The sharp motion sent a few droplets of blood flying up onto her face. Phoebe gave him a bloody grin, her teeth stained red, then spit out some of his blood. “When we get free,” she panted, “—and we will—I’ll kill you myself, you sick bastard.”

“Damn it, Phoebe,” she heard her Rick mutter under his breath.

She braced herself for a strike across the face in retaliation, but instead, as the strange Rick cradled his injured hand against his chest, he looked at her with interest. “Playing with you will be very interesting,” he finally murmured. “Very interesting. Especially after I kill your Rick. Shall I record it so we can watch together? No, you look like the type that needs a firsthand experience.”

Phoebe trembled with both worry and rage, a surge of fierce protectiveness overcoming her. “If you hurt one hair on the head of my Rick or my Morty I swear to Ma Kali that you will have a painful death,” she spat.

The other Rick had a cruel mouth. The dangerous smile flashed again. “You can try,” he shrugged. He turned his back to her, walking back through the creatures at his command.

They continued until they reached a set of double doors. He walked through, then called out in the alien language again. The creatures restraining Rick and Phoebe followed him into the room while the others dispersed. The other Rick closed the doors and beckoned the creature with her Rick towards a metal examination table. A row of computers ran parallel to it on one side. The creature dumped Rick onto the table, smacking him with restrained force as it did so, apparently to stun him momentarily as the other Rick secured him to it with metal restraints. “Pay close attention, Phoebe,” the other Rick drawled. “You won’t want to miss anything. And while you’re here, why not enjoy the view as well?” He gestured at the window.

Despite her better judgement, Phoebe glanced at it and recoiled in disgust as she saw what he indicated—the mass of tortured Mortys writhing in agony across the outer surface of the dome. “Ahh, isn’t it beautiful?”

“You’re fucking sick, you piece of shit,” Phoebe spat.

Her Rick responded with half-sarcasm, half-inappropriate-but-biting humor. “Yeah, yeah, looks like payday at Neverland ranch in here. Zing!”

The creature standing over him seemed to snicker. “Hehehehehehehehehe.”

“Well, that guy got it.”

“Yeah, it was really wrong but kind of funny,” Phoebe added. “Only you would crack a dark joke just before you’re tortured and murdered.”

“Oh, I won’t be torturing him, and I won’t be killing him just yet either. I have other plans for him, but that’s neither here nor there. You’re both missing my symphony.” He pressed a button that magnified the sound, for which he mimed a conductor’s motions.

Her Rick decided to crack another joke. “Hey, I’ll take it over Mumford and Sons. Zip!”

Phoebe sighed. “Rick…”

The creature near his head cackled again.

Rick preened. “This guy is on it!”

The other Rick rolled his eyes. “He’s not laughing at your dumb jokes, Rick. That’s just a random noise it makes every ten seconds.”

As if to prove his point, said creature cackled a third time.

Rick instantly deflated. “Awww.”

“See, Rick, you’re not as clever as you think you are. I wanted you to find me. We’re not so—” _belch “—_different, you and I.”

“Really? From where I am you definitely look like the bigger asshole,” Phoebe retorted. If he came close to her again, she could give him a swift kick in the gut or the balls. She considered kicking backwards at the creature holding her, but it could easily maim her since it had both of her arms in its deadly grip, though perhaps a kick would stun it...

The other Rick scowled at her. “This is what I mean, Phoebe.” The projector behind him flickered on, displaying a database of different Ricks. He fiddled with it for a moment, flicking through a few. “See this right here? I crunched the numbers, I created a spectrum of all the Ricks. I listed ‘em out from most evil to least evil. Here’s where I am. And look at right here’s where you are, Rick.” He flicked past her Rick’s profile to yet another Rick. “This guy right here? Super weird.”

“And I bet you’re still the bigger cunt,” Phoebe murmured.

Her Rick’s eyes looked on calculatingly. “I get it. So you want me to team up with you to take down the Council of Ricks, right? Is that where you’re going with this? ‘Cause that’s where I’d be going.”

The other Rick brushed him off. “Please. I think I’m doing pretty good on my own. I’m simply going to download the contents of your brain, and then kill you while your Phoebe watches. Then I’ll kill your Morty while she watches, and then I’ll have a little fun with her.”

Her Rick’s eyes shot to her. “He’s definitely the bigger cunt,” he agreed, startling her because she wasn’t sure he’d heard that remark.

The other Rick fit the scanning devices on her Rick’s head, and his memories started flashing across the screen: his newly finished space cruiser, bothering Jerry, Snuffles/Snowball the dog, Rick getting down and dirty with a blonde alien woman, Rick destroying presumably enemy spaceships.

The other Rick watched with rapt attention. “You’ve lived quite a life, Rick. It’s a real shame you’re not gonna be around to see it through.”

“That’s what you think, ass breath,” Phoebe objected.

He smiled nastily at her. “Oh, Phoebe, still haven’t given up hope yet?”

“As long as there’s breath in my body I’ll _never_ give up on my Rick!”

Just then her smiling face appeared on the screen, then Morty. As she watched, memory after memory of her and Morty, sometimes just one of them and sometimes both, played across the screen.

“You’re crying?” The other Rick crowed suddenly, and when she looked over she could see tears in her Rick’s eyes. “Over a Morty? Or over Phoebe?”

“Neither, I’m just allergic to dipshits.” Phoebe didn’t believe him, and she could tell that the other Rick didn’t either.

“Oh, Rick,” she breathed, her throat suddenly tight with emotion. “We’ll get out of this, I swear.”

The other Rick’s face twisted in annoyance. “Ugh, pathetic. We both know that if there’s any truth in the universe, it’s that Ricks don’t care about anyone, least of all Mortys.”

“You’re wrong,” Phoebe defended him. “He’s the Rickest Rick of them all, and he’s got twelve times the heart you do.”

“What did he do to make you so pathetically loyal to him,” the other Rick snarled, turning to her. “All Ricks are heartless bastards who break everything they touch.”

“Maybe _you_ do,” Phoebe persisted, “but he’s better than you, better than you’ll ever be.”

Her Rick started to speak, head rising off of the table as far as the restraints allowed. “Phoebe—”

With a crash the room doors exploded inward as a wave of Mortys broke through and rushed the other Rick and one of the creatures, beating and kicking at them. As they swarmed and overwhelmed the other Rick, he shouted, “Do your worst, you little bastards! Kill me! Do it! Do it!”

Some of the Mortys finally reached her, jumping on top of the creature, which was forced to drop her to defend itself. She couldn’t hold in the cry of pain as she fell on her still-aching, likely-bruised hands and knees. She scrambled unsteadily to her feet, immediately turning toward the examination table to get to Rick. To her immense relief, a Morty, _her Morty_, she thought fondly, was releasing the restraints holding down their Rick. She limped over to them as quickly as she could. As she got closer, her Rick disengaged the torture-generated shield, freeing the Mortys imprisoned within the matrix on the outside of the dome. She reached their side just as her Rick called the house to clue in the Ricks and Mortys no doubt occupying it. When he hung up, she wobbled right up to him and Morty, throwing her arms around both of them. She buried her face into Rick’s chest and pulled Morty flush to her side. “I love you guys so much.” Her voice came out muffled. Shifting her face to the side, she added, “I don’t know what I would do without you two. Rick, Morty, and Phoebe, always and forever. We’re the perfect combination, the dream team.”

She expected Morty to still be mad at her, or for Rick to push her away or let his arms hang awkwardly at his sides. She did not expect both of them to hug her back, especially Rick, who seemed to be squeezing even tighter than she was holding onto them.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Rick scoffed, but she noted something ragged in his voice, as if he’d been as worried about their safety as she had been about his and Morty’s.

“Ah, gee, Phoebe,” Morty mumbled, “Y-y-you’re gonna make me cry.”

She let them go, barely composed herself. She could have lost both of them that day. They’d been close before, of course: the spider-beast, the demonic clones, Scary Terry before they convinced him not to kill them, Gazorpazorp, giant prison. But somehow they’d always found a way out. She or Rick always had a solution, but this time things had looked bleak, until the Morty’s came and beat Douche-Rick to death. This time, Morty had saved the day. She pulled Morty to her again and gave him a second, individual hug, ruffling his hair with an almost imperceptibly shaking hand and kissing the top of his head. “You know you’re my favorite nephew, right?”

Morty made a confused expression. “Um, I’m your only nephew, unless Mom’s not telling us something.”

Phoebe laughed and tweaked his nose playfully. “Oh, you.”

When the Ricks from the Citadel came they rounded up the Mortys and escorted them back, murmuring about “poor Rickless bastards” and lamenting that many of them would be doomed to a hopelessly normal life. Phoebe rolled her eyes at their dramatics, more than happy to get the hell out of the creepy ass lair even if it meant returning to the Citadel. They stepped through the portal amongst the flood of Mortys. As soon as their feet touched down in the Citadel they were escorted back to the Council Chamber.

The Council was waiting for them, including the single Council Phoebe, who appeared to bear her no ill will.

“It seems we were a bit too hasty in our decision,” she intoned as soon as the group from C-137 got close enough. “And for the hardship we put you through we extend our deepest condolences.”

The Tri-hair Council Rick stepped forward, a box in hand. “Earth Rick C-137, the Council apologizes for its false accusation. And in the way of reparations for our terrible mistake, we would like to compensate you with this voucher for a free replacement Morty, in the event that—” _belch “—_your current—” _belch _“—Morty should—” out of the corner of her eye, Phoebe could see her Rick making a _cut it out_ motion behind their Morty’s head. She facepalmed.

The Council Phoebe cleared her throat pointedly, and Phoebe’s Rick interrupted Tri-hair. “Uh, guys? Not a good time. Come on, Morty, let’s hit it.”

He started to walk off with Morty, but to her consternation darted back to grab the voucher. He raised his eyebrows at her as if to dare her to challenge him about it, then continued walking off. Phoebe hesitated a moment, looking around at the Council and settling on her alternate self. “I don’t know if I’m the best of us Phoebes,” she started, voice raised, “but _he’s_ the best of all of Ricks, and he’s _mine_, and if any of you ever come for him again, you’ll have _me_ to deal with, and we all know that no Phoebe will go gently into that good night, so don’t _fuck_ with my Rick or my Morty, you fucking fucks.” She scowled around at all of them, catching what almost looked like a proud smirk mixed with something else—understanding, knowing, respect—from her other self, then spun on her heel and marched away from them with her back ramrod straight and her head held high.

As soon as she was out of the chamber she hurried to catch up to her Rick and Morty, who were only a little way down the hallway. She was just in time to hear her Rick tell their Morty, “I-I-I’ll explain when you’re older.”

She sidled up to them, nudging then both aside so she could walk between them. “Explain what?” She glanced between them.

They both looked at her, but Morty responded. “Hey, Phoebe. Something about not getting ahead of myself.”

“Where did that come from?”

“Oh, Morty here was laying it on thick about saving us.”

“Oh, well, he kind of did,” Phoebe pointed out. She held her hand up for a high-five from Morty. “I mean, Team C-137 for the win, am I right?”

Morty high-fived her with a grin. Her poor hand gave a twinge of protest, but she ignored it. “You hear that Rick? _Someone_ acknowledges my contributions.”

Rick scowled, bumping her shoulder with his own. “Don’t encourage him, Phoebe.”

“Oh, am I only allowed to enable _you_?” She teased.

Rick narrowed his eyes as he activated a portal against a wall in an outdoor courtyard. “I could just leave you here with all of these lesser Ricks.”

She snorted, eyeing him with amusement. “You wouldn’t last a day. You’d miss me and you’d cave.”

He scowled. “Don’t test me.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Let’s just go home, Rick. I need that bruise paste.”

His scowl softened slightly, his eyes going to her knees and no doubt mentally picturing the dark purple, black, and blue marks that had probably already formed. “Well what are you waiting for, then? A welcome-home parade?” He reached for her and gently grasped her arm, drawing her to his side. He shifted around subtly so that he bore some of her weight, taking a little strain off of her aching knees. She bent her head to hide her smile as he helped her limp through the portal with Morty at their side.


	21. The Space Bazaar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rick, Phoebe, and Morty go to a bazaar to have a calm family outing sans mortal peril (but don't quite succeed) and Phoebe starts working through her feelings and recalling an...interesting...dream she's been having. The lead-up to (and semi-reason for) the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I hope you didn’t begin to think I abandoned you. :3 It’s been an interesting ten days. I went to the doctor and found out I had developed bronchitis from the initial upper respiratory infection I caught just before I started writing this fic. I’ve been sick for a week and a half, so I’m still recovering. It’s harder for me to recover, and easier for me to get sick, because of my chronic illness, but I try not to let it affect me too much. That only goes so far, though, because it has real physical consequences for me. Anyway, I’ve also had some news lately that might really turn out to be awesome, but I won’t know for a few days, so cross your fingers for me please.  
:) I really need it to turn out in my favor, and I think I’m actually more excited than I thought I would be. 
> 
> As far as this story, you might be happy with where things are finally going, lol. ;3 Maybe. Or you might feel more frustrated, who knows? This next update will be approximately 20,000 words spread across four chapters. Let that sink in for a moment. I was originally shooting for two normal chapters, and one turned out that way (about 3-4k, around 10 pages, etc.; I normally have 2500-5000~ and anywhere from 8-15 pages). The other one, though…it just kept getting longer and longer. By the time I got to the end, I was suddenly staring at a massive 40 page, 16k+ mammoth that I had to then edit! And because I didn’t learn, I started writing the next part, too! XD So in short, everything took so damn long because the update is a massive monster and because I have been ill for a bit and trying to get better. Try not to be too hard on me, yeah? 
> 
> -The Druid Is In/Domino
> 
> PS: CW mentioned dream nudity, not technically nsfw but also I guess nsfw? It’s not smut, anyway. Not yet. >;3 As always, translations are in an endnote.

_May_, _A Week After Being to The Citadel_

She considered the sight in front of her thoughtfully, more than a little excited to explore. “So it’s like a... a space bazaar?”

“Eh, sort of.” Rick shrugged beside her and uncapped his flask, taking a quick swing. At his other side, Morty looked as excited as she did. They’d all wanted something calm to do after their close encounter the previous week, so they decided to visit a quiet planet by the name of Althar. Phoebe had wanted to bring Edana along for the ride, but with Tammy coming over that afternoon to study with Summer, the bubbly android had needed to stay behind to guard the lab.

Phoebe, not wanting to be caught off guard again and driven by her need to be better able to protect Rick and Morty, had bought more clothes that were perfect for concealing weapons so that she could wear them every day. Who knew when they would be abducted again, after all? So she stockpiled more skirts and dresses with concealed pockets, each made of breathable and lightweight fabric. She bought flowing jackets and sweaters with deep inner pockets that she could use to store weapons and her portal gun even if she wore her “casual” clothes. She never wanted to find the three of them in such danger again. She would be beyond beside herself if Rick or Morty died because she had her guard down. Rick had thoughtfully watched her carry her purchases past him. Later that day, he’d presented her with three new, clean lab coats, pressing the bundle of white fabric into her hands with understanding in his eyes. She’d accepted them without protest, nodded, and smiled grimly, then together they’d filled the pockets with spare tools and weapons.

Today Phoebe wore one of her newer outfits—a red dress with a high mandarin collar edged in gold and extensive floral patterns stitched in the same shining gold thread over a pair of black leggings— underneath one of the lab coats recently gifted to her. The lab coat was loose enough on her frame that it hung smoothly over the swords strapped to her back without highlighting their shape. She shaded her eyes against the sun as they took in the vast and winding network of stalls, each selling their own specialized array of wares: spun cloth, stones, street food, fruits and herbs, spices, dyes, miniature trees, rugs, perfumes, and other things, including an android repair booth. She thought she spotted what looked like a pastry stall across from a place selling what would be known as dumplings and noodles back on earth.

Phoebe lowered her hand, peering around at the different aliens passing by them. “We should stick together, avoid being separated.” She glanced at Morty momentarily, then turned to Rick. “Even if you and I lose sight of each other, one of us has to stick with Morty.” Although the teen had proved that he was not, in fact, as helpless as they had assumed in the past, she was still loath to leave him alone in a strange place, though undoubtedly her hesitation would fade with time. Besides, Morty had shown his resourcefulness, succeeding even when she and Rick had failed.

“I know better than to leave Morty unsupervised when we’re off-planet,” Rick drawled nonchalantly.

Morty swelled with indignation. “H-hey! Don’t act like I didn’t save your ass just last week, Rick!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I still say you shouldn’t get too cocky, Morty. You’re not—you’re not a member of the Justice League now, Morty. Everyone can have their day once in their life.”

Morty crosses his arms, a scowl on his face. “You just can’t admit you needed my help, can you, Rick?”

Phoebe decided to cut in before things devolved into a full-blown argument. “I think he just doesn’t want you to think that just because you did it you’re suddenly invincible. You could become overconfident and overplay your hand next time.” _You could rush into a dangerous situation full of bravado and get yourself killed_, Phoebe said to herself. _Or get Rick killed._

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her mind off of the man in question. The evening after their confrontation with the evil Rick and Morty and their flight from, and subsequent return to, the Citadel, Phoebe had laid in bed going over the day’s events. As she ran over the conversation she had with the other version of herself during Rick’s ‘trial’, the image of Council Phoebe rose into her mind unbidden. Her sad smile swam into focus as Phoebe replayed the scene:

_“But some of us _more _than like our Rick_,”_ she murmured, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing at one of the fingers on her left hand. It had a suspicious tan line near the base. “Mine died, and while I could claim another Rick, I just don’t have the heart. None of them are _my _Rick. You understand.” She looked between Phoebe and her Rick._

It was then that she realized that Council Phoebe had been married to her Rick, and that he’d then died sometime thereafter. The knowledge that at least one Phoebe, Council Phoebe, married her Rick, and therefore likely had both a romantic and sexual relationship with him, sent her mind spiraling. She had so many _questions_, and it made her wonder things. _Could she ever feel that way about her own Rick? Did she already? She forced herself to really consider what she thought of him and how, coming to the conclusion that she found him attractive and had for a long time. By itself the conclusion meant nothing. Rick was attractive, so what? She was a grown woman, and she could admit that. That didn’t mean that they would end up married someday, or even together. It didn’t mean that Rick found her attractive (or at least not physically repulsive), nor did it mean that he would reciprocate any romantic inclinations, either. Besides, even if he returned both of those sentiments, that didn’t mean he would act on them. Even if he did, even if they both did, so what? What did that mean for them? Would he reject those feelings? Would those feelings tear them apart?_ She ended up unable to sleep for hours. The following week, she tried not to let the speculations distract her, but the recurring dream that started on the second night made that nearly impossible, and any time their fingers brushed now the squirming fiery snakes she had been feeling before made trails in her stomach and ribcage, squeezing and making a nuisance of themselves. She hoped the wind would blow one way or the other, for better or for worse, to settle the distraction once and for all.

She shook her head to clear it as, humbled and mollified, Morty scuffed his shoe in the dirt, hands shoved into his pockets. “Yeah, I mean I guess.”

“No one’s immune to harm,” Phoebe reminded him seriously, pushing her musings away and managing to smile kindly at Morty. “Me and Rick are just worried about you.”

“So don’t wander off,” Rick rejoined, voice gruff. “The last thing we need is you wandering into an alley alone all half-cocked and getting shanked.”

“Gee, thanks, Rick,” Morty replied dryly.

Rick rolled his eyes and set off up the street. Phoebe grabbed Morty’s hand and quickly followed. After walking for a few minutes, they exchanged the appropriate amount of notes for some sort of pastry, strolling along at their leisure. For the most part, they window-shopped, attempting to gain their bearings and figure out what the bazaar had to offer. They spent at least an hour and a half browsing that way. A few times, however, such as when Phoebe came upon exotic space yarn, or when Rick came upon locally brewed spirits, they were tempted to linger or to buy things on the spot. For those times, they carefully placed things into the pack they’d brought with them, hanging off of one of Phoebe’s shoulders.

Both Rick and Phoebe wanted to inspect an array of weapons more closely, but Morty has wanted to check out a stall selling old alien video games. Because of their lingering reluctance to let him out of their sight even for a moment, Phoebe and Rick resigned themselves to following along. Morty stared at one of the games in wonder. “This looks so cool!”

Unimpressed as he scanned the area around them, Rick drawled, “You know that’s, like, five years old now, Morty?”

“I don’t care, Rick, it looks awesome.” He turned hopeful eyes to Phoebe, who had half of their money. Rick carried the other half. “What do you think, Phoebe?”

Phoebe’s eyes flicked over to Rick. “An older game _would_ be cheaper than a new release, and if there’s a sequel to the ones he likes, this would be a good way to see if he wants to get into the series.”

Rick shrugged nonchalantly. “To be honest, Phoebe, I could probably—” _belch _“—probably make a better system with full backwards compatibility and find the whole set for cheaper than it’s being sold here.”

Nearby, the stall owner, a giraffe-like being with enormous doe eyes and long lashes, let out a disgruntled grumble. Phoebe took a second to consider his words, then nodded. She turned back to Morty with a gentle smile. “What do you think of that, _habibi_, if we got them all for you somewhere else? Would you like that?”

“Oh man, I mean, geez, that’s—that would be cool, I guess, Phoebe.”

Phoebe hugged him to her side with one arm. “Wonderful.” They moved away from the games to wander through the crowded streets and check out more of the bazaar, though first they stopped to examine the weapons stall that had caught their interest. Rick purchased a few that they both agreed upon, tucking them inside of the pack on Phoebe’s shoulder. The two of them would mod them later in the confines of their shared workspace.

As it turned out, most of the stall owners were quite adept at bartering and just as content to accept trade as they were currency, although what constituted “fair trade” varied from merchant to merchant. The three from Earth C-137 walked up to a stall from which an echidna-like alien sold herbal remedies, supplements, cures, and tinctures just in time to witness a haggling session between the echidna-like alien and one of the pink-skinned blond ones.

Eventually the two came to some sort of agreement. Phoebe inspected the wares as Rick leaned against the edge of the stall and a captivated Morty admired spun-glass figurines being sold one stall over. Phoebe slipped him a few bills to buy one, her sharp eyes still examining the wares in front of her for a few more moments. She took out her phone, opened her notes app, and dictated a brief rundown of what she saw in French. She wanted to do her research before she bought anything, and the book she got at Christmas would be an excellent place to start. As she slipped her phone back into her pocket, Morty wandered over cradling a tightly wrapped figurine that Phoebe then stored in their pack.

She felt a gnaw of hunger in her stomach that had her glancing at Rick and Morty. “If you two are still hungry, would either of you oppose doubling back for those dumplings?”

Morty’s stomach just happened to rumble loudly at that point. One hand shot to his midsection and he let loose a nervous chuckle. “Ah, hehe. I—uh…”

Phoebe smirked, eyes bright with amusement and affection. “Well, I guess we have an answer with you, eh, Morty?”

He grinned awkwardly. “Yeah.”

Phoebe looked expectantly at Rick. “Rick? What about you?”

“Only if we can get the—” _belch _“only if we can get the spicy ones.”

“Oh, Rick, I don’t know if I can handle spicy,” Morty objected.

“Why don’t we get a large spicy order to share and Morty can get a small one to himself?” Phoebe proposed before the two could squabble about it.

He hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “You’re paying for Morty’s.”

Rick’s money came from his bordering on unethical—if not downright illegal—bullshit, some of which Morty and Phoebe had borne witness to or helped him accomplish, such as his harvesting and theft of the poisonous space drugs. Phoebe, of course, made a lot of her own money off of her biofuels than her previous endeavors, and would make even more money off of her perfected hair serum (although she had yet to broach the topic of Rick using it).

Phoebe rolled her eyes but muttered an agreement. The three made their way back to the dumpling stand, where Rick ordered. “Yeah, uh, we want an extra-large order of spicy dumplings, an extra-large order of noodles, three, uh, three of those—” he pointed at the bottled drink lined up to the side “—and a small order of non-spicy dumplings.” Rick fished out just enough for his shared order with Phoebe and their two drinks. Phoebe supplemented the amount for Morty’s things.

It didn’t take long for the vendor to hand out three containers hot to the touch. One was larger and rounder than the others, one was taller and more cylindrical, and a third was the same shape as the first, but smaller. They divided their bounty up between them and carried it all to a cluster of nearby tables off to the side where customers of the street food vendors congregated, managing to find a table for themselves. They started eating in silence, Morty in his own world and Rick and Phoebe keeping an eye on the crowds around them for signs of danger. Thankfully she and Rick both carried around travel chopsticks just in case.

As Phoebe fed the first bit of noodles into her mouth and caught sight of Rick’s profile in her peripheral, her musings from earlier roared back to life. The more she ate, the more details of the recurring dream she’d been having every night for the past few days flooded to the forefront of her mind, her stomach twisting up in now-familiar white-hot knots just at the thought of it.

_Wherever the dream took place, the lighting was dim, and she was always naked. Phoebe was lying on her side in a bed, tangled in the sheets. As with the last few times, she felt a presence there with her in the gloom, not a threatening one, but rather one that made her feel safe and at ease. She knew who it would be before she turned around, knew the first time. She turned over, coming face to face with a pair of uncanny silvery eyes shining in the low light. The man they belonged to grinned at her crookedly, his wild hair somehow even more unkempt. He reached out to her, cupping her cheek gently with his palm. Her dream self-leaned into the touch, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “Qīn aì de,” she murmured. _

_“Wǒ de xīn gān,” he whispered gruffly, his thumb tracing her lips. He leaned forward, gently pressing his lips onto hers, his palm opening up to cradle her face._

_“Shǎ guā,” she muttered around his lips. _

_“Bèn dàn,” he breathed into her mouth. _

_His arms encircled her, pulling her closer so that they lay against each other skin to skin. He ended the kiss to nuzzle into her throat, inhaling. Her left hand splayed across his back before she began tracing his spine with her fingers. When he lifted his head, she carefully caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down with as little force as possible for about twenty seconds, then she kissed her way down his throat and out toward his shoulder. There, in the dip of his shoulder, she bit down harder but without drawing blood. Almost in her ear he moaned, a few curses exhaled at the end. _

_She gave a slight push, rolling him onto his back, then sat astride him. Her dream-self smiled teasingly down at him, right into those uncanny silvery depths. “Quieres jugar conmigo?” _

_He smirked up at her, his hands sliding onto her hips. “Para siempre.”_

_As her dream self leaned down to kiss him again, and as his hand came up to touch the back of her neck, she woke up. _

Phoebe’s forehead wrinkled and she frowned thoughtfully as she tried to keep watching the people around them on all sides. Even though her conscious mind hasn’t admitted it until that point, the dreams told her quite clearly that she might be developing feelings for Rick. She highly doubted they were purely sexual in nature—in fact, she was certain that her stupid heart wanted her to make a fool of herself. Before the Citadel mess and the dreams, she hadn’t taken the time to examine any rising crush for her friend, had barely acknowledged it at all. After everything, however… She couldn’t be totally sure when it started, though she was beginning to piece things together, and she didn’t know what she wanted to do with it—or so she told herself. Mostly, she just couldn’t get over that she might have caught feelings for Rick—or that she’d been so blind to them. She could have kicked herself for not realizing what that torturous thrill in her stomach meant. _She’d been pining, godsdamnit!_

Screams rising up somewhere nearby snapped her out of her musings and memories, bringing her back to the present and their mostly finished meal. Almost as one, she and Rick discreetly drew their weapons, the remainder of their food momentarily forgotten. The people sitting closest to them seemed to have noticed something amiss as well, with some looking around in confusion and fear. The screaming drew closer, and as it did, people began fleeing in the opposite direction, flooding past them. Morty looked inclined to panic along with them. “What in the hell is going on, Rick?”

Just then the cause of the screams came into view as they mowed down the people immediately in front of them. “Fucking Carthagian Raiders,” Rick hissed, on his feet in an instant. Phoebe followed him not long after, adrenaline already flowing.

“Oh, man, Rick, this doesn’t look good,” Morty whimpered.

“It’s not, Morty, they’re bloodthirsty pricks. Unlike a friend of mine, they don’t selectively steal from the wealthy or target weapons shipments. They conduct surface raids on any unlucky ship or planet they come across.”

“Well isn’t this just fucking wonderful,” Phoebe grumbled. “And I was enjoying this meal.” She strapped the pack onto her body tightly and grabbed Morty’s hand.

He tugged at her. “We-we-we gotta help them, Phoebe!”

“No time, Morty,” Rick shook his head. “We need to get out now before they get any closer.”

“Not to mention we’re outnumbered,” Phoebe told him gently. “We have to go.”

“But these people—”

“Will live or die without our help,” Phoebe finished for him. Of-fucking-course she wanted to help them, but her and what army? Her best-fucking-friend, who she had feelings for, and her unarmed nephew? Rick or Morty could die, and while part of her blazed with fury at the raiders, another part of her was more concerned with protecting Rick and Morty. “We need to get back to the ship.”

Nodding, Rick drew his portal gun and fired it off just to the left of them. With his free hand, his fingers wrapped around her lower arm, pulling her and Morty through the portal after them. They stepped out barely an inch from their cruiser. Rick released his hold and they all clambered inside. The doors barely closed before they started ascending, and within minutes they were clearing the atmosphere of Althar. They breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“I guess that was pretty close, Phoebe,” Morty acknowledged. “I just wish we could have done something for those people.”

“The lucky ones will escape like we did.” Rick waved him off with an accompanying belch. “Besides, forces should arrive soon to fend off the raiders.”

“That’s a relief,” Phoebe sighed. “I felt sort of guilty about leaving, but I didn’t want anything to happen to the two of you and it was our best option.”

“Yeah, well, try not to feel too guilty, Phoebe. They’re not—” _belch_ “—they’re not defenseless as a planet or a nation. Those were just civilians.”

Phoebe placed a hand on the glass as she stared into open space, attempting to stave off a return to her earlier reflection now that they were out of danger. “I just wish we could have had some down time without someone trying to kill us,” she murmured.

Rick glanced at her, catching sight of her reflection in the glass. “Well, Beth and Jerry _are_ leaving for that stupid-ass Titanic-themed bullshit. Maybe we could do something then.”

Phoebe turned from the window to look at him. “What did you have in mind?”

Rick smirked. “How do you feel about a party?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Habibi = used here between Phoebe and Morty the context makes it translate more like sweetie/honey (even though it's literally 'my love').
> 
> Qīn aì de = in Mandadin has the meaning of beloved, darling, kind of like querido (which itself means lover/dear/darling/beloved; sorry for the comparison, but my main non-English language is Spanish). 
> 
> Wǒ de xīn gān = literally “my heart and liver”, but translates to “my heart and soul”. 
> 
> Shǎ guā = literally “silly melon”, used to call someone a fool, but can be used as affectionate teasing/term of endearment. 
> 
> Bèn dàn = again literally means “dumb egg”, used to call someone silly/foolish/an idiot, but also can be used as affectionate teasing/term of endearment. 
> 
> Quieres jugar conmigo? = “do you want to play with me?” >:3
> 
> Para siempre = always 
> 
> These last two make me think of a favorite HP fic of mine where the two in the ship always call each other ‘git’ and ‘prat’ as terms of endearment. It’s just their thing, and they mean it affectionately even though if someone else called them that it would be insulting XD


	22. Like It's 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rick and Phoebe throw a party, the guests start arriving, and they worked really hard on the food.

_Three Weeks Later (After the Raider Incident)/A Month After the Citadel/Mid-June_

Summer gave her farewell with barely concealed boredom. “Bye, mom! Bye, dad!”

“Drive carefully!” Morty called.

“Have fun, you two,” Rick waved.

Phoebe rolled her eyes, knowing perfectly well that her friend didn’t say it with sincerity and was as happy to see Jerry and Beth off as Summer. “Try not to fall off and drown,” she joked.

Beth stopped to reply to them, her face letting them know she was as thrilled to go as she would be to pull out her own hair. “Yes, we will have as much fun as possible on our... Titanic -themed getaway.”

Jerry, the only person genuinely excited about the trip itself, pleaded with Beth. “Let's lose the 'tude, please. It's supposed to be romantic.” Phoebe forced herself not to facepalm. While Jerry loved everything about the Titanic, it was clear that Beth would rather be doing anything else. Shouldn’t a romantic weekend be at least a little above tolerable for both parties rather than excruciatingly, painfully boring for one of them? Beth could at least _try_ a little harder to pretend it wasn’t killing her to go, especially if she wanted or expected Jerry to be patient, supportive, and validating with her own passions in the future. Then again, given Jerry’s disregard for her passion for equine heart surgery, perhaps she was just returning what she already got. It worked both ways, after all.

Beth frowned, her eyebrows pinched as she pointed at Rick. “Speaking of disasters, Dad, we are leaving you and Phoebe in charge here. I’m hoping that she’ll keep you from doing anything too insane. Someone has to be the responsible adult here, after all.” Did...did those two really expect Phoebe to be able to censure Rick? Most of the time they were of the same mind, though they had different reactions and methods of dealing with things. Phoebe had to admit she was the saner of the two, but she found it far more likely that she would help Rick and do damage control afterward than restrict him beforehand, unless she disagreed with his plans. His decision to shoot Morty Jr seconds after his birth was one of those times of disagreement, as was the entire anxiety-inducing journey on Gazorpazorp. “Well, _that_ was a mistake,” she muttered to herself in Mandarin.

Rick’s hands flapped as he spoke, very obviously impatient now. “I know, c-can we wrap this up? Morty, Phoebe—” _belch _“—and I have some synthetic laser eels oxidizing in the garage.” They had Edana tending to them, but Beth didn’t need to know that.

Beth’s frown deepened and she jabbed her pointer-finger at Rick, waving it around for emphasis. “Hey, don't blow me off. I am drawing a line, okay? Any damage to this house or these children when we get back, and... no more adventures with Morty.”

“That’s not really fair, Beth,” Phoebe protested, unsure if Beth meant only Rick or both of them.

“Not fair? Are you kidding me?”

Morty clasped his hands anxiously, glancing at Rick. “Aw, geez, Rick. If my mom's the one who's saying it, then you know it's pretty serious this time.”

Jerry and Beth spoke at the same time. “That's right.”

A surprised, caught off-guard Jerry added, “Wait. What?” Beth rarely agreed with him so readily. Phoebe wondered if she only had this time because it was the only way the woman could think of to punish Rick. 

Rick tried placating Beth, voice soft and hands outstretched, palms angled down but facing upward. “Listen, you have my word as a caregiver, everything's gonna be fine. And if not, like you say, no more adventures or whatever.” One of his hands briefly alighted on Phoebe’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Phoebe’s lips thinned into a tight smile, thinking of what they could do in a worse-case scenario in which Beth and Jerry tried separating them from Morty. Rick said he had some sort of memory-erasing device. Couldn’t they just use it on Morty’s parents? “It's like that old song ‘blomp blomp-a noop noop a-noop noop noop’. You guys know that song?” Phoebe gave Rick an odd look. What the hell was he on about now? “From Tiny Rogerts? You never heard of it? You know, the black effeminate guy from the '50s?”

Phoebe’s hand came up to cover her face, finger and thumb on either side of her eyes. Very patiently, she murmured, “Rick, do you mean Little Richard?”

Rick paused, shooting a glance at her. “I dunno, maybe? Look, who cares?” He looked at Beth and Jerry once more. “Beth, Jerry, just go on your stupid trip.”

Jerry scowled. “Not one thing out of place,” he warned as he got into the car. When he pulled out of the driveway and into the street, he got out to add, “Not a single thing.”

Then, mercifully, her brother and his wife were gone on their weird-ass ‘romantic getaway’ that was anything but that. She sighed. “So, what now?” Just then, a hiss like acid eating through metal reached her ears, and a moment later the garage door fell forward over them with a groan as it came away, then a loud thud as it smashed into the concrete. Luckily for them, the sound of acid eating through metal was the result of the eels eating a gaping hole through the garage door, so they found themselves standing in that void rather than all being hit over the head and ending up with skull fractures. Phoebe could just see the last of the eels fleeing if she turned her head.

“Well, we're past the point of no return,” Summer declared brightly. “I'm going to have a party.”

“Oh? What makes you think that?” Phoebe’s eyebrows raised as she turned to look at her niece. “We can just have Edana fix it.”

“Speaking of Edana.” Rick’s voice so close to her ear sent a prickle along her lower back. Like the twisting, flaming serpents that now constantly resided in the pit of her stomach, the new sensation did not go away over time. “Where the fuck did she go?”

The four of them whipped around to peer into the garage just in time to see Edana peek tentatively into the room from the kitchen. Seeing Rick, she told him, “Your food was burning,” by way of explanation. “I only stepped away for a moment to get it out of the oven.”

Rick glowered. “Next time, if you need help minding an experiment and a tray of baked spinach artichoke wonton cups at the same time, summon a Meeseeks.”

“Why are you making those anyway?” Summer wondered, going inside with Morty not far behind.

Phoebe looked at Rick. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

“Nope,” he shrugged, “and neither does Morty.”

Phoebe threw her hands in the air. “I refuse to be the one to tell them.”

Rick shrugged, taking a sip from his flask as he made his way inside.

“Edana, could you deal with this?” Phoebe gestured at the fallen door as she stepped out of it and crossed the garage.

“I will do my best,” Edana replied.

Phoebe entered the kitchen, carefully moving the tray of baked spinach artichoke wonton cups to a safer place as they cooled while Summer rummaged around in the cabinets talking to one of her friends on the phone. Rick entered the kitchen just then, having been doing who knows what. As he bent to grab something from the fridge, she checked on the Swiss meatballs, then turned to accept another tray of the wonton cups to slide into the oven. 

Somewhere off to the side, Morty exclaimed, “Summer, you can't throw a party! Remember what mom said?”

“Yeah, if anything gets messed up, you and Grandpa Rick get punished. I'm only a human being, Morty.”

“Rick, Phoebe, tell Summer she can't have a party!”

“Summer, it’s not happening,” Phoebe tossed over her shoulder as she accepted a covered dish of deviled eggs. She took it to the counter.

“Uh, Summer, you can't have a party,” Rick doubled down as he passed the teen with a tray of canapés that he set beside the deviled eggs. He turned to her, belched, and explained, “Because I'm having a party, b-i-i-i-itch!”

Phoebe rolled her eyes at his dramatics. She was surprised her eyes didn’t get dislodged and tumble away with how often she rolled them due to Rick’s antics.

“Oh, what?! Rick, you can't!”

Phoebe eyed Summer. “He can and he is—_we_ are, actually.”

“What do you mean you're having a party?” Summer sounded disbelieving, injecting mocking sarcasm into her voice as she scoffed, “Are some glip-glops from the third dimension going to come over and play cards or something?” She switched to Phoebe. “And you’re helping him?”

Phoebe shrugged. “After we almost got murdered by our evil twins I thought it’d be nice.”

"Glip-glop?" Rick turned from adding a finishing touch to the canapés to reprimand her. “You're lucky a traflorkian doesn't hear you say that.”

Summer crossed her arms, scowling at Rick. “Is that like their n-word?”

Deadpan, Rick replied, “It's like the n-word and the c-word had a baby and it was raised by all the bad words for Jews.”

Morty broke in, all anxiety and placation and pleading, “Listen, I think the four of us could just, you know, have a nice time, like just hanging out, and, you know, doing a little bonding and—”

Summer cut off his babbling. “Screw that! This is my chance to gain some footing with the cool kids and it won’t be ruined by the three of you!”

Rick scoffed. “That's why you party? Boy, you really are 17,” he sneered.

“Well, why do you party, then?”

Rick thrust his hands out emphatically as he yelled, “To get—” _belch _“—r-riggedy-riggedy wrecked, son!”

Phoebe leaned against the counter and crossed one ankle in front of the other with an amused, indulgent look on her face. “_I _want to have a party to celebrate us being alive—plus, our nice family outing got cut off by Raiders gunning down the people five feet away from us. If anyone needs to let loose, we do.”

Rick slid in next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. The prickling wound its way up her spine like an electrified vine climbing. “Yeah, Summer, take a—” _belch _“—take a lesson from Phoebe. Let your hair down, get shitfaced.” Phoebe glared at him. She had no intention of getting so drunk that she lost herself. She liked being in control of her faculties, _thank you very much._

Summer waggled a finger at them. “Just keep your sci-fi friends away from my awesome ones.”

“Yeah, and you keep your awesome friends away from my canapés,” Rick warned, dropping an olive as a finishing touch onto one of the canapés arranged on the pan.

“Away from _all_ of our food,” Phoebe added. “Which reminds me, the tea I made is finished.”

“Tea?” Rick looked down at her. “You made _tea_ for our party?”

Phoebe grinned mischievously. “It’s very special tea, Rick, just for us and our three very special friends—not for this party, though, for after it. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

His face screwed up in distaste. “I’m not really a big tea drinker, Pheebs.”

Phoebe smirked, looking more and more like a Cheshire Cat. “You’ll drink this tea.”

“God, are you _flirting_?” Summer sounded distraught. “Is this about some kind of orgy thing? I _really_ didn’t need that mental image.”

Morty cringed, covering his eyes. “Eww, gross, Summer! Why not just keep that to yourself? I didn’t want to picture Rick or Phoebe naked.”

Phoebe felt herself flush. “No, Summer, I mean _actual _tea. If I meant—if I meant _that_ I wouldn’t say it in front of you two!”

She slid out from under Rick’s arm, still blushing brightly, and went to the fridge. She pulled out a mason jar full to the top with dark brown liquid and held it out toward the other three to see. “This is for us and us only,” she warned them. “And by ‘us’ I’m including our friends, although I’m not sure right now if I’ll actually have any.” She handed it over to Rick, who studied it intently, his lips and eyebrows drawn into a curious frown. “That is,” Phoebe continued as he held the jar up to the light, “unless you want to brace yourselves to have some light vomiting, followed by life-altering hallucinations and a spiritual awakening.”

Rick paused in his inspection to give her a questioning, interested look.

“What the hell is that?” Summer stepped closer for a look herself. Rick held the jar away from her.

“Oh, you know, just a friend from the desert,” Phoebe replied casually, watching Rick’s face for his reaction. “A plant known by the name of _Lophophora williamsii_, but more commonly as Peyote.”

A slow smirk like the rising sun spread across Rick’s face.

XXX

Summer’s guests started arriving first, for the most part. Phoebe gave her mountains of cookies, potato chips, and tortilla chips, then shoved the cheese dip, salsa, and hummus at her to “go fucking hog wild with” before she moved on to display the platters of little cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches she and Rick made the night before. Phoebe sighed as she surveyed their work. “We don’t have long before people start getting here. I’m going to go change. Will you stay here with the food?”

“Might as well,” Rick shrugged. “I don’t want Summer’s friends putting their grubby, drunk, hormonal hands on our stuff.”

Phoebe smiled as she portaled into her room. All of the doors were locked tight, but Phoebe felt they couldn’t be too careful. The top floor was mercifully empty of partygoers thanks to her quick thinking. She had summoned a small group of Meeseeks who had strict instructions to guard the upstairs until all of their guests left and not to let anyone pass by who didn’t live there. She’d shown them a picture of everyone so they had something to go off of, then left them to their task, trusting them to do it faithfully because they couldn’t die unless and until they completed their task. The last thing Phoebe or any of the other inhabitants wanted was for someone to puke all over their shared bathroom or to fuck around on their beds. _If anyone was going to fuck around on her bed, it would be her, not some rando._

Once inside her room she changed in a flash, donning a blood-red _cheongsam_ with winding embroidered dragons, gold outlining and illuminating every detail—the open maws, the outstretched claws, the waving whiskers. A split ran up each side to mid-thigh, and a gauzy golden cover encased her arms and tumbled over her shoulders. With practiced ease she smoothed mango butter and sweet almond oil into her hair, quickly but carefully combing it free of tangles before weaving it into a loose crown braid that left a few stray curls framing her face. She pinned the end in with a set of matching gold-petaled flower clips, then studied herself in the mirror with a critical eye. Just because it would be a wild party thrown by _Rick fucking Sanchez _of all people didn’t mean she didn’t want to look her best.

Not one to ever be left unarmed, however, (not that she would be anyway, what with the ever-present dagger in each boot) she strapped a small dagger to her left thigh and slipped a few senbon, three throwing knives, and a compact electrocution pistol into a small black purse. It was relatively small, small enough to go unnoticed by most, but still large enough that it afforded her more room than a clutch.

Satisfied, she portaled back into the kitchen, tucking the portal gun into her bag and hanging it off of one shoulder. Rick, his back to her and his head bent, was setting up the fountain for the chocolate, an enormous bowl of strawberries at its side. “Ah, Phoebe, good, can you bring over the tongs?”

She moved toward the drawer to get them, fishing out both of the ones they had just in case. She stepped to Rick’s side. “I’ve got them here when you’re ready. Have our guests arrived yet?”

“No, just Summer’s stupid friends so far except for the traflorkians.”

Phoebe shrugged. “Well, they’ll get here when they get here. We know they’re coming and that’s all that matters.”

Rick grunted in agreement, uncanny eyes and nimble fingers intent upon finishing the setup. When he did, he straightened up, hand extending for the tongs. Phoebe passed them to him and he placed them in a convenient spot. “That should about do it.” He turned to her fully, seeing her for the first time since she’d returned. “What do you thi…” Rick trailed off as he finally caught sight of her. His silvery eyes glinted, his gaze sharpening as he took in her appearance. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes traveling top to bottom several times.

Phoebe licked her lips, then glanced down at herself. “What’s wrong, Rick? It’s too much, isn’t it? I was worried it would be but I wanted to look nice—”

“There’s nothing wrong with how you look,” Rick cut her off, voice almost imperceptibly off from its usual tone. “It’s fine.” He flapped his right hand for emphasis, then tore his gaze away from her. “Just—just help me make sure we have everything.”

They were just rechecking everything for the second time when the doorbell rang again. A minute passed as Summer answered the door, the low murmur of her voice following. Thirty seconds later, the sound of her footsteps lost in the buzz of conversation, Oona appeared in the doorway, glancing about her with interest. “Rick, Phoebe! Zis is your house?”

Phoebe went forward to hug her. “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a few weeks.”

Oona reciprocated the gesture. “Yes, it has been too long.”

The doorbell rang again and again as more people arrived, and suddenly the house was inundated by four other Ricks. “You invited yourself?” Phoebe muttered in disbelief as they trooped by the door.

Her voice seemed to have an interesting affect, as the Ricks all doubled back to the kitchen. A chorus of four exclaimed her name in delight. The closest Rick wolf-whistled. “We heard you had a Phoebe in your timeline, C-137. We wondered for a while, since you never bothered to check, if she would come around,” a Rick toward the right side said. He smirked at Phoebe, extending his hand. “Rick E-490.”

Her Rick intercepted the handshake with a scowl. “Don’t bother her with your weird shit, E-490. Take your Phoebe-less asses out to the rest of the party.”

E-490 pulled his hand back and waved them both in the air in front of him. “Ooh, guys, looks like C-137 is a little touchy about his Phoebe, better do as he says. You know how Ricks with a Phoebe get.”

“Uh, yeah, sheesh, tell me about it,” the Rick to the far left, the third one to speak, chimed in.

“Yeah, F- 210, we better leave these two be. Wouldn’t want to ruin their _alone time_.”

The other Ricks laughed, took their portions of the spread laid out before them across the counter and table, then herded themselves out with plates in hand and another muttered joke passing amongst themselves. Phoebe forced herself to breathe calmly and ignore what the other Ricks had just insinuated.

“Zey vill be obnoxious tonight,” Oona remarked calmly as she delicately plucked up one of the deviled eggs and bit into it. Her neutral response eased some of the tension that had come over Phoebe, who snuck a glance at Rick out of the corner of her eye. The man had a slight sneer in place as he gazed after his alternate selves, his silver eyes flashing. As if Phoebe didn’t already know that some Phoebes and Ricks were apparently involved with each other, the group of Ricks had spelled it out even more clearly. She didn’t know how to feel about it. She resisted the notion that she and Rick were inevitable, that they were a foregone conclusion, just because some of their other selves had apparently seen fit to get together. On the other hand, she knew very well that if she were honest, she had had feelings for her Rick for some time, before they met any other Ricks or Phoebes, before the Citadel, before Council Phoebe with her marriage to her dead Rick or the pointed remarks of the Ricks attending the party.

“You can say that again,” her Rick all but growled.

Something occurred to her suddenly. She went to the kitchen drawer and pulled out the glow-in-the-dark purple gel bracelet decorated with white peace symbols. “Hey, Rick, come here for a moment.”

Rick turned to her with one eye to the door. “Yeah, Phoebe?”

She took his left hand into her own and slipped the bracelet onto his wrist. At her touch, all of Rick’s attention was immediately drawn to her. He glanced down at the bracelet, comprehension dawning. “If I actually speak to them, I can tell them apart from you, but this way I can avoid them from afar.” She tried to make her tone light and joking. Rick said nothing.

Thankfully, Bird Person and a few other of their guests arrived not long after that, which diffused some of the tension in the air. The doorbell range, accompanied by the faint sounds of Summer answering the door again. Summer’s voice rose in volume as she called, “Ugh! Grandpa! Aunt Phoebe!”

Phoebe first went to stick her head into the garage to holler for Edana, noting that the android had repaired the garage door. Edana, who sat at the worktable cleaning and reloading weapons, looked up at the sound of her name. “Yes, Phoebe?”

“Can you bring me the Meeseeks box?”

“I can.” Edana picked it up from where it had been left out and brought it to her before going back to her work.

Phoebe paused by the door. “You know, I can just summon some Meeseeks to watch the garage if you want to relax.”

Edana made a pleased humming sound but shook her head no. “I would be more at peace in here than out there anyway, Phoebe, but thank you.”

Phoebe shrugged. “Suite yourself.” She closed the door, summoned two Meeseeks, and directed them on who to let into the room to take food and who to turn away. It all took less than two minutes, then she and Rick left Oona in the kitchen with the Meeseeks as they went to Summer. Rick threw his arms into the air as if to embrace the avian humanoid standing at the threshold. “Bird Person!” When he noticed Bird Person holding his hand out for a fist bump instead, he switched his motions without comment.

“Oh, Byrd Pursun, you’re finally here!” Phoebe offered him a fist bump from her and he accepted it, his peaceful eyes holding a sadness they hadn’t the last time she and Rick met up with him.

He blinked at them, speaking in his usual peculiar fashion of a totally neutral voice. “I am pleased to see you all unharmed and that there is no emergency.”

“Oh, there's an emergency, all right.” Rick slung his arm around their friend’s shoulders. “A pussy emergency! When's the last time you got laid, 'Purs?”

“Rick!” Phoebe gasped, scandalized. “That’s personal! He might not want you to discuss that in front of everyone!”

Bird Person calmly waved away her concern, not looking the least bit abashed by Rick’s blunt inquiry into his sex life. “It is all right, Phoebe. It has been a... challenging mating season for Byrd Pursun.”

Phoebe tried to look reassuring. “I’m, ah...sorry to hear that. Everyone hits a dry spell every once in a while. I’m sure it’ll pass.”

He blinked his large, owlish eyes at her again. “Yes, not everyone can have their spirit mate all but fall into their lap.” _What the fuck was up with all his talk of soul bonds and spirit mates?_

Phoebe shifted uncomfortably under his tranquil gaze. “Err…”

Rick broke in before things could get too awkward for her. “Then it's time to get your beak wet tonight, playah. Go have some fun out there Bird P—Bir—Bird Person.” He lightly pushed his friend forward until he started moving of his own accord. Phoebe followed his progress and called out to his retreating figure, “Last we saw, Oona’s in the kitchen with the food, Byrd!”

Behind her, she heard Morty mutter anxiously to Rick, “Oh, man, how many people did you two invite, Rick?”

“I invited three people,” Phoebe replied as she turned to her nephew. “But those are guests I share with Rick since they’re mutual friends. I don’t know who else Rick invited, though.”

A large ship parked in the street and short, gummy aliens tumbled out and toward the door.

“Uh... people?” Rick considered for a moment, sharing a glance with Phoebe.

“Mm, six.”

“Is that without counting yourself four other times?”

“You invited other Ricks?” Morty shrieked, hands going to tug at his hair. “Oh man, Rick, oh man, didn’t you think you could do enough damage on your own?”

The gummy aliens reached the door, flooding in under Rick’s arm. “Yo! What up, my glip-glops?!”

“Hit up the kitchen on your way by,” Phoebe added cheerfully with a wave.

Morty stared after the gummy creatures with a worried expression. “Rick, I thought you said that was a slur?”

Rick waved away his concern. “Not between friends, Morty. Now go, I don’t know, pathetically pine after one of your classmates. You’re killing the vibe here.”

“Well I’m not—I’m not the one throwing a party that’s going to blow up in our faces.”

“You worry too much, Morty.”

Morty opened his mouth to continue arguing, but Phoebe easily slid into the conversation. “We’ll make sure everything is cleaned up and back to normal before your parents get home, Morty. Everything will be fine. Now stop worrying and mingle.”

He frowned. “Weren’t you supposed to be the responsible one? You’re supposed to reign him in, not enable him, Phoebe!”

Phoebe draped her arm over Rick’s shoulders, ignoring how it made every nerve come alive and gave her goosebumps. “Yeah, well, clearly your mother misjudged me if she thinks Rick and I aren't as thick as thieves, Morty. That means we have each other’s backs, and we keep each other’s secrets, and when we want to throw a party, we conspire _with _each other, not against.”

Rick’s arm came up around her shoulders to mirror her gesture, his long fingers settling on the top of her arm. A wave of heat flared from within, forcing her to stomp it out before she could blush. “Y-y-you’re up against the dream team, Morty. Now go—go somewhere and try not to embarrass yourself.”

Morty glared at them. “You two are just—you’re just a real treat, you know that?”

Rick rolled his eyes. “What, and you’re not? Morty, you can’t really be—you don’t mean to tell me you’re honestly surprised?”

“Well, what about Team C-137, huh, Rick, Phoebe? What about us? What about all your teamwork crap from like a month ago?” He gestured between the three of them.

“We’re still a team, Morty,” Phoebe replied patiently, “but this,” she waved her hand between herself and Rick, “this is a team, too.” She tilted her head so she could see Rick, then grinned. “You gotta remember that this asshole is my best friend.”

Rick smirked. “The best, Morty.” Phoebe thought she felt his fingers flutter against her arm where they lay and his arm tighten around her momentarily. But the touches were so fleeting and so faint that she felt she could have imagined them.

Morty threw his arms up in defeat and stormed off just as a humanoid alien that Rick greeted by the name of Gear Head walked through the still open front door. He was one of the more odd-looking humanoids, some sort of cyborg species with gears where his mouth would be, and a translucent pink torso. “And who is this lovely woman?” Gear Head gave Rick an expectant look, nodding at Phoebe.

“This is Phoebe.” Rick looked down at her as he said her name, genuine fondness in his eyes mixed with something else. “We’re—we’re pretty tight.”

Phoebe grinned mischievously, very suddenly booping his nose and earning an insincere scowl. “Claro, _como uña y mugre_. You won’t get rid of me easily.”

As was so common in their banter, Rick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know, wouldn’t dream of it.” He returned his attention to Gear Head, who had watched them with interest. “Look, I’m sure you could chat here all day, but there are more people coming and we can't just block the door like this.”

“Too true, but I’m interested in your friend here. Not many people catch the attention of Rick Sanchez, and even then, you don’t bond with most of them.”

Something about his scrutiny made her uncomfortable. “Perhaps some other time. We wouldn’t want to neglect the rest of our guests,” Phoebe supplied quickly despite knowing that Rick likely cared very little for either fully observing the rules of hospitality or the rules themselves.

It seemed as if Gear Head might linger anyway despite her polite rebuff when another of Rick’s guests appeared in the doorway. He was round, with sickly pale green skin the color of snot. His clothes were lurid shades of yellow and green, and he wore clocks on his belt and on the headband circling his bald head. He carried two long staffs, each topped by another clock. Rick greeted him with more warmth than he showed Gear Head.

“Slow Mobius, my man, my favorite time lord! Why don’t you go try some of the canapés?” Rick caught Phoebe’s eye and gave her a meaningful look. “In fact, why don’t Phoebe and I come with you? We have some catching up to do.” He sent an, what Phoebe saw through as an insincere, apologetic glance at Gear Head. “Catch you later, Gear Head. Why don’t you go mingle?” Without waiting for an actual response, he started walking, forcing Phoebe to walk with him, as they still had their arms about each other’s shoulders. He steered them quickly into the kitchen with Slow Mobius in tow.

“What a lovely home you have,” the time lord remarked as they entered the kitchen, where they found the Meeseeks carefully guarding the food as instructed.

“Eh,” Rick shrugged, pulling away from her. He walked over and grabbed a canapé, popping the whole thing into his mouth.

Phoebe smiled graciously at Slow Mobius. His clothes might be hideous, but he hadn’t latched onto her creepily or tried flirting with her yet. “Why don’t you have something, Slow Mobius?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he murmured, passing one staff to his other hand to free it up. 

Phoebe decided to make up a plate for herself. “Rick, you should have a plate, too,” she commented, handing him an empty plate that he accepted with a fond half-smile and a weak grumble of protest. They served themselves, Rick surprisingly making an actual effort to catch up with Slow Mobius as they all leaned against the counter to eat. Without being explicit about it, he made an effort to keep Phoebe included in the conversation. Phoebe, of course, noticed it anyway and appreciated the gesture.

“We should make some rounds, make our guests feel welcome,” Phoebe murmured as she tossed her plate. 

Rick frowned down at the last bit of deviled egg he had. “Then we’ll just run into Gear Head.”

Phoebe’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why did you invite him if you can’t stand him?”

Rick sighed. “It’s not that I can’t stand him as a person, it’s that he’s got that look on his face that means tonight he’s gonna rant about the goddamn Gear Wars again—he doesn’t even have to be drunk to make a whole thing out of it—and I can only take so much, Phoebe.”

“I can see how that might be annoying,” Phoebe sympathized. “But I’m sure that we can avoid him, and if not…” She placed a gentle hand on his lower arm, smirking. “I’ll just have to steal you away.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really, now come on, Rick.” She slid her hand down his wrist to his hand, gripping his fingers lightly between hers. Internally, she held her breath, unsure how much touch she could get away with since Rick seemed to shy away from too much close physical contact with her, though he had seemed to be allowing more and more of it lately. Maybe being held prisoner by Evil Rick and Evil Morty had given him some perspective? Who knew how his mind really worked.

Half-expecting him to shake off her hand and stalk past her, she was pleasantly surprised when he set the plate onto the counter, shoved the remaining food into his mouth with his free hand, and allowed her to lead him out of the kitchen, his hand in hers.


	23. In This Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Morty kind of fucks up, Phoebe senses something in Tammy, and the other Ricks flirt with Phoebe (again), but aren't the only ones.

_Part Two_

At some point during their rounds of socializing, they’d gotten separated. Phoebe only hoped that Rick could manage to avoid Gear Head, and if not, she would come to the rescue and snap him back up out of the other man’s clutches. More aliens had apparently arrived, if the dinosaur-looking motherfucker, some Toucan Sam-looking bitch (Scary Terry would be so proud), and blob man—who may or may not have had a vibrator stuck inside of his grey-brown translucent body—were anything to go by. She ran into a few types she had seen before: a pink-skinned blonde one, a purple fish person, a green-skinned one with a bulbous head. She thought she even saw a cyclops-like one with one eye and purple hair. She smiled politely, exchanged small-talk, and tried to make everyone feel welcome.

At one point she spotted Bird Person sitting in a corner with Tammy of all people in his lap. As she started to turn away from them, Tammy looked up, though not directly at her, and, just for an infinitesimal moment, something shifted, like someone looking out from behind a curtain. If she hadn’t been looking at her when it happened, she would have missed it, but as it was, she saw the moment when the girl’s eyes changed, just for a half a second: they took on an almost predatory appearance, like a shark smelling fresh blood in the water. Phoebe blinked and it was gone, making her wonder if it was just her imagination or something more. She shook her head, resuming her meander through the press of bodies. She shivered. _Who the fuck _was _Tammy, really? _She filed the information away for later, determined to look into her when she could, but knowing that at the moment she couldn’t do anything more than keep searching for Rick as she charmed, grinned, laughed, and generally acted like a good host—despite other Ricks trying to hit on her.

Two of the Ricks stumbled from between two fuzzy, bug-eyed aliens. Seeing Phoebe, they sidled up to her, one drunkenly placing a hand on her upper arm, the other laying his arm across her shoulders. “Aw, come on, Fifi. Why don’t you—” _belch _“—why don’t you stay around for a bit now that—” _belch _“—now that C-137 isn’t around to spoil all the fun?”

“Yeah, Bee, why not see—” _belch _“—what it’s like to get a double scoop of Rick?”

She ducked and sidestepped out of their reach. “I don’t need either of you to ‘give me a scoop’, thank you very much.”

“Oh?” The one on the right said. They looked at each other with a smirk. “He giving it to you that good?” The one on the left inquired with a lecherous gleam in his eyes. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Phoebe drawled, slipping through a throng of Summer’s guests and missing the reaction of the two Ricks.

As Phoebe circled back around, she saw her Rick trapped by Gear Head. When he caught sight of her, he sent a clear but subtle distress signal, so she wound her way through the partygoers to his side. She arrived just in time to hear a part of the rant Rick predicted earlier in the kitchen. “...The thing people don't realize about the Gear Wars is that it was never really about the gears at all.” Gear Head sounded as if he had both been droning on for a long time and would be for an even longer time.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. No, no, to—totally,” Rick responded dully, his lack of enthusiasm going unnoticed.

Phoebe broke into the mostly one-sided conversation brightly. “Hey, Rick, I’ve been looking for you!” She looped her arm through the crook of his. She turned to give Gear Head her most winning smile. “I’m so sorry about this, but I’m going to have to steal him from you. A friend of ours hasn’t gotten a chance to see him yet and she wants to speak to him.”

“Does she know about the Gear Wars yet?”

Phoebe’s blinding smile didn’t waver for an instant. “I’m sure she does! She’s really into intergalactic histories. Come on Rick. It was nice speaking to you again, Gear Head.”

They made to escape but were confronted with an even more irritated and neurotic looking Morty. “Rick, Phoebe, you gotta stop—”

A vicious smile came over Rick’s face. “Morty! Have you met Gear Head?” Phoebe saw exactly where this was going, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. He never would have walked right into this if he had just chilled the fuck out from the start.

Startled, Morty started to introduce himself. “Hey, how's—”

Rick shoved Morty forward toward Gear Head as if offering a virgin sacrifice to avoid the attention of some hungry god or monster. Morty _was _going to be sacrificed, in a sense. “Morty here, he—he would love to hear all about the Gear Wars. He’s—he’s not well-versed in intergalactic events.”

Once his attention latched onto a new victim, Rick and Phoebe made themselves scarce. “God, I didn’t think he’d ever shut up,” Rick muttered to her.

Phoebe smirked at him, feeling entirely self-satisfied. “I told you I’d steal you away,” she teased Rick. “My damsel in distress.”

Rick scowled back at her. “Up yours, Pheebs.”

Still smirking, she retorted with amusement, “You first.”

Rick had quite a few acquaintances, it seemed. By the time they ended up chatting with a red-hued one named Scropon—who might or might not be a scorpion-like humanoid—Morty emerged from the crowd next to them.

“Hey, Morty,” Phoebe acknowledged him.

Rick echoed the greeting, adding, “H-have you—have you met my buddy Scropon?”

Morty looked downright pissy, his hand flung out in agitation. “Not again, Rick! That last guy droned on for 45 minutes, you know? And meanwhile, the whole house is being destroyed!”

Phoebe had to admit that a few of the guests were a little wild, but it was nothing a Meeseeks cleaning crew couldn’t take care of in an hour or two. Just then a beer bottle flew through the air and smashed high up against the wall. Okay, maybe three hours. Still, handy, that, to be able to have fifty extra sets of hands. With a few pushes of a button one could have an infinite crew at their disposal.

“Whoa, Morty, this guy's entire planet was destroyed. Have a little perspective.” As he spoke, Scropon wandered off to speak to another alien present, a worm-like one that looked a bit like the letter ‘s’.

Just then the voice of one of their three mutual friends reached her ears. “Hey, Rick, hey Phoebe, squanchy party, cats!”

“Aw! Squanchy!” Rick cried, a genuine thread of enthusiasm and fondness in his voice. He did a little hop dance on and off the table.

“Glad you could make it,” Phoebe greeted him, bending down and having to kneel to hug the small feline alien. Despite this, he still kissed her hand first.

“Oh course, Phoebe! I wouldn’t miss your party for the world!”

Phoebe beamed warmly at him and she straightened back up to her full height. “I’m glad to hear it, Squanchy.”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, Phoebe. Now, is there a good place for me to squanch around here?” The question seemed to be directed at both Phoebe and Rick.

Rick threw his arms wide. “Squanchy, you can squanch wherever you want, man. _Mi casa es su casa_, dawg!”

“Make yourself at home,” Phoebe added, aware of what he wanted to do. “Just _por favor, no en nuestras camas._”

“All right! I like your squanch! And don’t worry, I don’t need a bed for this.”

He took off, no doubt to find the perfect spot, a bottle of spirits within a brown paper bag in hand.

Morty looked as if he didn’t really want to know as he tentatively inquired, “Uh, Rick, Phoebe, what exactly is ‘squanching’?”

Phoebe waved her hand. “Don’t, ah, don’t worry about it, Morty.” No need to traumatize the boy further with that image. Summer had done enough damage with her orgy comment.

Rick made another attempt to soothe his at-the-moment erratic nephew. “Morty, Morty, listen—we've had a lot of really cool adventures over the last year, but it's time to relax.”

Morty glowered at them both. “Yeah, if I relax now, there might not even be any more adventures!”

“Why?” Phoebe wanted to know. “Everything’s under control.”

“Under control?!” He exploded, tossing his arms up in exasperation. “There are aliens having sex and eating each other and throwing up acid and no one remembers how to use a trash can! Someone knocked out a window, and there’s a hole in the wall!”

Phoebe set her hand on his shoulder. “Chill, Morty, just breathe, don’t have a brain hemorrhage.”

He shook her hand off with an unhappy look. “Chill? Breathe? How can you be so calm about this?”

“Because, Morty,” she explained patiently, “it’ll all be cleaned up and fixed by the Meeseeks before your parents can come home.”

Rick sighed, frowning. “Don’t try to reason with him, Phee.” He drug a hand down his face. “Jesus, Morty, you're bumming me out. Can't we just pretend like everything's fine for a few hours, enjoy ourselves, and then worry about all this later?”

Phoebe took a sip out of her own cup. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You know, maybe that's easy for you to say. You know, you like not caring about stuff, or acting like this isn’t a big deal. Especially if you can just—if you can just hit a button a few times and cover up all the damage you’ve done. You know, wh-wh-what's in this for me? For me?”

Phoebe swished around the contents of her cup with lazy rotations of her wrist as she regarded Morty with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know, Morty, maybe having a blast? Letting loose? Celebrating the fact that we’re together and we weren’t almost murdered twice in the past month? Taking the opportunity to do shit with us your parents would never let you do?”

But Morty’s attention was only half on her as he caught sight of something across the room. When he started saying ‘Jessica’ in slow motion, she knew why. She followed his line of sight to see a popular female teenager from his school entering the room. Beside her, Rick yelled, “Knock it off, Slow Mobius!”

His nearby time lord acquaintance apologized as Morty whispered in awe, “I can't believe she's here.”

“You like her?” Phoebe guessed.

Rick was always one to seize on an opportunity when he got one. “Well, what are you doing standing here, Morty? Go. Talk to her. Tonight, the only adventure you're on is your cusping manhood. Totally gonna get laid tonight.” He took Morty by the shoulder and shoved him toward the door.

Phoebe raised her voice just enough so it would carry to her nephew as he disappeared after Jessica. “Remember that talk we had about consent and safety!”

Rick raised his cup in Morty’s direction. “Look at that, Pheebs. Our boy’s becoming a man.”

Phoebe took on a mock-serious tone. “How fortunate he is to have you assist him in ascension.”

Rick smirked. “I know, right?” he drawled.

Phoebe heaved a long-suffering but affectionate sigh. “And, as always, you’re the picture of modesty, Rick.”

He only cocked his eyebrows at her as he drank from his cup.

“I guess it’s just a Rick thing,” she muttered, going for another drink. “I’ve had at least two other versions of you flirt with me tonight, unless the two I ran into earlier were different from the ones that spoke to us in the kitchen—F-210 and E-490. Then I suppose that would take the count to four.”

She drank then, missing the immediate shift in expression to downturned lips and narrowed eyes that rippled over Rick’s features like a disturbance on the face of previously still water. “Oh, yeah? Really now?” He pressed, voice tightly controlled. It smoothed out into something more neutral by the time the cup lowered.

Phoebe scoffed. “They asked me if I wanted a ‘double scoop of Rick’, then I told them I didn’t need a ‘scoop’ from either one of them. Totally shameless.”

“Hey.” Rick reached out and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “If—if they’re—if they’re—” _belch _“—bothering you, why don’t you just stick with me for the rest of the night?”

“Even if you weren’t my best friend, it would be better than being pounced on at every opportunity by a pack of horny Ricks with too much time on their hands.”

“All right, let’s hit up the kitchen for more food and booze.”

When they re-emerged into the party a few minutes later, it was just in time to hear the tail-end of a cruel remark from Summer, her words filtering to them through the hum of conversations around them. She was standing facing a group of three other teens her age, her back to a nerdy-looking teen with high-waisted pants, a long sweater, and huge square glasses that covered a good portion of her face. “Are you kidding me? I don't even know what she's doing here.”

Phoebe gasped. At her side, Rick seemed displeased as well. “Wow, Summer, that was _way_ out of line,” Phoebe reprimanded. At the same time, Rick offered some chastisement of his own. “Whoa. Not cool, summer. This is a party. Everybody should be welcome.”

Just then the wall separating the kitchen and living room exploded outward as a figure all in black knocked his way through it.

“Oh, great,” Rick groaned, “Who invited Abradolf Lincoler?”

Summer immediately jumped on that, apparently sharing a keen eye for opportunities just like her grandfather. “I thought everyone was welcome?”

Phoebe scoffed. “Oh, and you’re one to talk? Now you’re suddenly concerned about who feels welcome?”

Rick frowned at Summer. “It's not the same, Summer. Lincoler is a crazed maniac—just a misguided effort of mine to create a morally neutral super-leader by combining the DNA of Adolf Hitler and Abraham Lincoln. Turns out it just adds up to a lame, weird loser.” Across the room, Lincler menaced a few people out of the room, casting his gaze about as if searching for someone in particular.

“You did _what?” _Phoebe yelped.

Rick held his hands up in the universal _let me explain_ gesture. “Hey, don’t get all judgy, Pheebs. I didn’t say it was one of my best decisions,” Rick defended.

“Ugh, why am I not surprised,” Phoebe sighed. “I love you and all, but sometimes I really question your judgement, you know?”

Surprise flickered in Rick’s eyes at her comment as Lincler locked onto their little group and stalked towards them, gaze only for Rick. “Rick,” Lincler hissed, “you brought me into this world, a suffering abomination tortured by the duality of its being.” Rick sipped from his cup casually, as if bored, which Phoebe found oddly reassuring. If Lincler were dangerous, surely Rick would be more worried. Still...her hand dropped to the slit in her dress as he kept talking, just in case. “But I shall finally know peace when I watch the life drain from your wretched body!”

He bumped into one of Morty’s school acquaintances, Bran or Brent or Brad or something ...yes, _Brad_, that was it! Brad turned to confront Lincler, miscommunication soon turning into an argument and then an outright brawl before their eyes. During the whole debacle, Rick and Phoebe had somehow ended up only a few steps away from Lincler. As her hand gradually relaxed off of the hidden dagger, Rick yelled from beside her, “Kick his ass, Brad!” That started the whole room chanting ‘kick his ass’, the crowd mentality that often showed up in schoolyard fights taking over.

As Lincler went down under a volley of punches and kicks, Jessica bolted from the room with Morty hot on her heels. Phoebe glanced at Rick then took off after Morty. Rick followed them at a slower pace. Morty had paused in the doorway. He gestured angrily. _Hmm, maybe the waving, flapping, and wild gesturing was a family thing, or maybe it was a product of spending so much time around a Rick. _“Rick!” Morty glowered.

Rick rolled his eyes. “I just did you a favor, Morty.” Once more he pushed him in the direction Jessica had taken, doing his version of being encouraging.

Phoebe took a few steps towards him. “Remember to stay safe and use protection, and wait for clear and enthusiastic consent!”

Morty blushed, fiddling with his shirt hem. “Oh come on, Phoebe, you’re embarrassing me.”

She shrugged. “Hey, if you’re gonna start exploring no matter how anyone else feels about it, especially your father, I’d rather you be safe than sorry.” She grinned, about to tease him unrepentantly. “Besides, you’ve already had _one_ accident, best not have another if you can avoid it.”

Morty blushed cherry red. “Hey, don’t—don’t mention that stuff! It was one time, okay?”

Phoebe waved her hand. “I’m not trying to shame you, I’m just saying, if you’re going to anyway, be careful. Oh, and also there are condoms stashed in both bathrooms, the lab, and my room, but since you might not have time to get to those…” She handed Rick her drink and then opened her purse. “I think I still have one or two here in the inner pocket, just let me check the expiration date.” She fished a Trojan condom out, her back to Rick and therefore unable to see his expression, though she could see the slightly mortified look on Morty’s face. She flipped the condom over, then passed it to Morty. “Not expired. You know how to use it, right?”

Morty looked like he was torn between being grateful and wanting to be swallowed up by the floor. “Um, yeah, I do, thanks. No need for—for a demonstration or anything like that.” He didn’t linger after that, hurrying toward the front door after Jessica.

“You were keeping a condom in your purse?” How someone could sound both interested and ultra-casual/neutral she had no idea.

Phoebe turned to face Rick, shrugging and not seeing anything odd about it. “It’s from the last time I carried it. You know, just in case. You can never be too careful, you know?”

“I guess so, yeah. It’s what I would do if I planned on picking up someone I didn’t plan on seeing out in the morning.” _What emotion was that in his voice? It wasn’t judgement, that much was clear. She’d heard him being judgmental and that most definitely was not the case here. _

“Right, well.” She could feel her stomach twisting itself into a pretzel as her brain connected Rick and condoms, so tried subtly calming herself down. She pulled her dignity around her like a cloak. “Why don’t we go back to the party?”

“Yeah, we might catch Brad still laying a few hits on Lincler’s pathetic ass.”

XXX

Only a little while later, after Phoebe and Rick once more rejoined the party, the whole house shook, the lights in the house flickered, and a light flashed in the sky. Then a small fall, as if the house dropped down. Steadying herself, Phoebe glanced out of the sliding-glass doors and, instead of getting a view of the backyard and garden, saw that the entire house had been transported either to another dimension or another planet. “Um, Rick…”

Standing next to her as he had been for much of the night, Rick studied the world visible through the glass and slid the door open. “Huh. Big star in the sky,” he took a deep breath, “oxygen-rich atmosphere, giant testicle monsters.” He considered only a moment. “We'll be fine! Let's party!” One of Summer’s guests ripped off his shirt, whooped, ran outside, and was promptly snatched up by a testicle monster and shoved into one of its orifices, presumably eaten. Rather than say anything, he flicked on the stereo then started dancing to the music that issued out of it, which happened to be _Shake That Ass Bitch _by Splack Pack. _‘~Just shake that ass, bitch, and let me see whatcha got. ~’ _

“Ugh, really?” Phoebe groaned, facepalming.

“Yes, really! Don’t sweat it, we’ll be fine!” He tugged on her hand, encouraging her to dance.

“I—shouldn’t we be more worried about this whole situation?” She waved her hand around vaguely.

“We can fix it later,” Rick waved away the concern.

Phoebe sighed. “Fine, but I’m going to text Morty and Summer about this.”

“Ugh, whatever.” As he kept dancing, she sent an identical message to her niece and nephew.

**Phoebe to Cinnamon Roll and Red Queen: Need you to come here. By the stereo with Rick. **

“There, it’s done. _Now_ I’ll dance with you.”

That was all Rick needed. He took her hand and pulled her in closer, then danced with abandon. “I’m not shaking my ass,” she warned as she started moving.

Rick shrugged. “Don’t then—unless you want to.”

Phoebe snorted. “Oh, fuck you.”

He smirked. “What, without taking me out to dinner first? Classy, Pheebs.”

“I didn’t peg you for the dinner-first type,” Phoebe joked.

“Never said I was,” Rick returned.

_Shake That Ass Bitch _started winding down. At the end of the song, the music transitioned onto _Wobble_ by V.I.C. As the partygoers started drunkenly moving through the steps, Morty and Summer came up to them from their respective directions. The four went outside to stand on the back porch together, Rick pulling out his flask.

Summer immediately started in on Morty. “I swear to God, Morty, if it weren't for the fact that everyone's still having a blast in there, I would be so furious with you right now.” She crossed her arms and turned away from him.

Rick extricated a device from his lab coat as she spoke. “Oh, man. Y-you hear that, Morty? You really lucked out with Summer o-on that one.”

Phoebe crossed her arms as well. “Summer, I doubt he tried to do it.”

“How are you guys not freaking out right now?! T-the whole house is sitting in another dimension! I-I mean, w-what the hell are we supposed to do?! M-m-mom and dad are gonna kill us! I'm losing it here, Rick, Phoebe!”

“I’m sure Rick can get everyone back. We both still have our portal guns, so we could do it pretty quickly.”

“But what about the _house_, Phoebe? What about that?”

“We...alter your mom and dad’s memory of where we live and move the whole family to a different house. We can keep them knocked out until we’re done with everything. Meanwhile we use Meeseeks to move our furniture.”

Morty wailed, “Is your answer to everything huge and overwhelming to summon a hundred Meeseeks?”

Phoebe scowled. “No, but they’re damn useful and it would work as a good backup plan.”

“And messing with my parents’ minds, Phoebe? That sounds like something Rick would suggest!”

“He wouldn’t be wrong if he did,” she retorted.

Rick interrupted her attempts to counter Morty’s mounting panic. He knelt down and put an arm around him. “Relax, Morty, relax! It's gonna be fine. We shouldn’t have to fuck around with their memories or move into a new place. All we have to do is go out and find us some kalaxian crystals.” The device went off with a bright pink flash and series of beeps. “Oh, shit, motherfucker! Kalaxian crystals, Morty, just a few miles South of here.”

Morty grabbed both their wrists, apparently ready to set off then and there. “Okay. Let's go, then. W-w-we got to go get those crystals right now.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Morty, Morty, I-I can't go with you,” Rick protested. “I got to hang back with Phoebe and make sure everything stays cool here, you know? I mean, who knows what—what if somebody breaks something?” _Wait, why did she need to stay? _She gave him an odd look.

“More importantly, we need to make sure no one else gets eaten by giant testicle monsters—or worse,” Phoebe added.

“That too,” Rick nodded in quick agreement. “Definitely need you here more than you’re needed to get the crystals, just in case someone or something needs to be stabbed.” Part of her protested against the idea that she needed to stay behind, and part of her found it reasonable given what Rick could get up to on his own (sometimes he really _did_ need a voice of reason), reasoning that Morty was more capable than ever. Not to mention that Rick didn't seem overly bothered about the world, and it couldn't be all that dangerous if he trusted Morty to be all right on his own. She wavered. It would be just as good to send him along with someone who would protect them as fiercely as she would. Or some-_ones_.

Summer was quick to cast her vote. “Yeah. Me too. I should stay.”

Lincler slid open the door and joined them, asking for aspirin. Phoebe saw that opportunistic look on Rick’s face and just knew what was coming even before he spoke. Totally lacking surprise, she watched as Rick suggested Morty go with Lincler. “Oh, hey, Morty, this is perfect! You can take Lincoler with you.”

Lincler, who was covered in bruises and had a beer can pressed to his head, protested weakly, “Hey, man, I'm not going anywhere. I'm injured.”

“Shut up, Lincoler. It's the least you can do for wrecking the living room.”

Phoebe objected instantly. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, didn’t you say he’s insane? _Qué piensas?_”

“It’s fine, Lincler’s pathetic and a coward. He could get his ass kicked by a ten-year-old.”

“Then how is it helpful to send him?”

Rick paused, frowning. “Because it’s better than no one, and because he’s at least tougher than Morty.”

“Hey!” Morty yelped indignantly.

“Oh please, save it,” Rick drawled.

Phoebe sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Well that settled it. “Don’t move.” She glanced around. “Any of you. This will only take a second.”

She withdrew her portal gun from her bag and activated a portal on the wall next to the door. She stuck her head through into the garage to find Edana pacing worriedly. When the android saw her, she immediately went over to her.

“Phoebe! Oh I’m so sorry, I’m the _worst_ guardian. Morty came in earlier and I didn’t stop him because he’s one of the people allowed in here, but he brought that girl, Jessica, and when they found Squanchy in the closet they freaked out and knocked over some device and—”

Phoebe laid a reassuring hand on Edana’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, but I need you to do something for me. Pass the Meeseeks box will you?”

Edana brought the box to her without question or complaint. Phoebe pulled her head and hands from the portal, her prize held close to her.

“Oh, I should have figured,” Morty remarked when he saw the box in her hands.

“Yeah, fuck me for being predictable,” Phoebe grumbled, hitting the button four times then passing the box back through the portal and allowing it to close. Four blue figures appeared with their usual greeting. “I need you to go with my nephew, Morty, to fetch some kalaxian crystals. Protect him, all right? Walk with him, keep him from getting lost, and don’t let him die or get hurt or maimed. After he’s back here safe and sound with the crystals, you can fade into nonexistence again.”

“Lincler's still going,” Rick spoke up.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, safety in numbers? Someone for Morty to trip if they’re being chased by a man-eating monster? Because he owes us?”

“Ugh, fine, let the lab experiment with daddy issues go with him, then. Morty’s still taking his protection detail.”

“I resent the first part of that statement,” Lincler sulked.

“No one cares about your feelings,” Rick sneered.

It was then that Phoebe noticed the nerdy teen Summer tried excluding earlier, and Summer’s absence. She must have come out onto the porch while Phoebe had her head in the portal. It apparently took less than a minute for the teen to get roped into going with Morty, Lincler, and the Meeseeks as Summer’s replacement, and Summer was unsurprisingly nowhere to be seen.

“Just go. And here—” Phoebe withdrew the pistol in her bag and handed it to Morty. “The safety’s on. I know you know how to use this.” She eyed Lincler darkly. “Let that fucker walk in front of you and keep a Meeseeks between you. If he tries anything, shoot off a testicle or something.”

Lincler glowered at her wordlessly.

“Oh, um, all right,” Morty mumbled as he tucked the pistol into his waistband. “Let’s—let’s go then, everyone.”

Morty prodded Lincler forward in front of him, then set off after him with the other teen behind him. The Meeseeks moved around Morty in a diamond, one on each side and one before and behind. Phoebe leaned into Rick and whispered, “Who’s she and why is she going?”

“Oh, her?” He gestured at the red-sweater-clad figure in glasses as she disappeared over a rise. “Don’t know her name, but it’s kind of pathetic. Apparently Summer promised her they’d reconnect or something if she went with Morty. Sad, right? That girl must be desperate for companionship.”

“Yeah, sad,” Phoebe muttered, staring at the place they disappeared to. She looked at Rick. “Do you think I sent enough Meeseeks?”

Rick nodded, sipping from his cup, his flask tucked back into his coat already. “They’ll be fine.”

“We should have gone,” she fretted, “Why didn’t we go again?”

“Because Morty has his own protection detail and a gun, and because we had to hold down the fort.”

Phoebe bit her lip. “Maybe I should go after them. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Rick gripped her shoulders in his hands, the red solo cup in one touching her upper arm. He peered straight into her eyes. “Look, I know you’re worried about him and regretting not going, but he’s already shown us he can take care of himself, and you gave him everything he needed to do that, so don’t sweat it.”

“Yeah, I know I just…” she trailed off, staring into his eyes. “What if I was wrong?”

Rick’s right hand left her shoulder to cup the left side of her face. “You’re not, Pheebs.”

Unlike when Evil Rick touched her, she didn’t feel revolted, didn’t feel as if her skin were crawling and needed to be scrubbed until it turned red. Instead she felt safe, comforted. She closed her eyes and turned her face into his hand. Instead of biting into the flesh of it as she had bitten the other Rick, she pressed her cheek into the skin there and sighed. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured, relaxing into his touch. It felt natural to do it, even as her stomach came alive with the coiling flames.

Unseen, Rick’s eyes lowered to her lips. “I know I am,” he said softly. “Because I know you, Pheebs, and I believe in you.”

Her eyes opened just a fraction and she looked up at him through her lashes. “Yeah?”

Rick’s thumb caressed a slow, small circle on her cheek. “Yeah.”

They both held perfectly still, silently looking at each other. Phoebe felt something shifting in the air, even though neither of them had spoken or moved. Energy rising, perhaps, or a feeble breeze stirring.

“Rick?” Her voice sounded quiet to her own ears, somehow both closer and further away.

He hummed quietly. “Mm?”

She licked her lips. “What—what are we doing?”

She knew what they were _literally_ doing at the moment: they were standing on the back porch in an alien world, and Rick was comforting her, but something told her it was more than that this time. Usually he refrained from touching her at all, and the times they touched before had been accidental brushes of fingertips, necessary in moments of danger, or just after an averted tragedy. He’d never held her face, _ever_, and their only real hug was after Morty saved their lives.

Rick startled her with a shaking thumb deliberately brushing the edge of her mouth. “Whatever you want.”

She wasn’t quite sure which way he meant that. Did he mean this moment, the party, or something else?

“I want…” Her breath caught in her throat. _She knew exactly what she wanted…didn’t she?_

Rick grew even more still if at all possible, an intent expression on his face and eyes more intense than ever. His hold on her face didn’t tighten, though it didn’t slacken, either. Phoebe reached down for his other hand, taking it in both of hers. She used one to draw back his sleeve. She trusted herself but she needed to be sure anyway.

Glancing down, she could see the bracelet she’d slipped on Rick earlier, a swarm of thoughts racing by a mile a minute. _Should she? Was she ready to confront her feelings? Did she want to drag them out in the open with Rick, see how he’d react? What if he rejected her? What if he felt the same way? _She looked back into Rick’s eyes, into their now burning intensity. _What would Rick want if he _did _feel the same way? Would they...date? Would he just be after sex? Would he ignore both of their feelings and go on like normal? Would he love her?_

“Phoebe.” His voice brought her out of her head. He’d leaned much closer to her, cutting the distance—and height difference—between them. “What do you want?”

Her hand slowly rose to cup his face in turn, her fingers splaying across his cheek. She swallowed. “Oh, Rick,” she whispered, “Knowing what I want isn’t the problem. I don’t know what _you_ want.” She steeled herself, then, before she could change her mind, she pushed up on her toes, crossing the remaining space between them to gently pressed her lips to his for a few moments, though it was enough to set off the hot-snakes feeling all the way up to her chest, and the prickling feeling up the entirety of her spine. She rocked back on her heels to gauge his reaction, not prepared for what she saw.

Rick was someone who was ordinarily so composed, so entrenched behind layer after layer of carefully constructed neutrality and nonchalance. Now it was as if someone had jackhammered straight through those layers, and he stood before her smoldering. Rick looked like a man burning, his uncanny silvery eyes so _hungry, _so rapt, so wild, dancing with dark delight. His fingers flexed against her face. He drew even closer to her, tossing his cup off somewhere to the side. He met her eyes, studying her face. “You really want this?” _What was _this_? A one-time thing or a regular thing? Love, sex, or just a stolen experimental kiss? A moment or a lifetime? Rick himself? What was ‘this’? _

“Yes,” she replied without qualifying. Maybe it was _yes _to all of those things, now and the future, here and there.

Rick dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers with more tenderness than she’d ever witnessed him use before—well, perhaps with the exception of his gentle first-aid when they got back from the Citadel. He’d helped her dab on the bruise paste to speed up her recovery from her injuries, and he’d been easy with her then, too, trying to cause her as little pain as possible.

Unlike someone she’d kissed in the past, he didn’t use the kiss as an excuse to try and cop a feel. Instead he focused all of his attention into the kiss, into gently cradling her neck with his hand as it prolonged, into his light hold in case she wanted to break away, into the delicate dance of his lips over hers, tender, patient, not rushed or rough, not what she expected when she saw the ragged, fiery look in his eyes. He looked as if he could devour her, just swallow her whole. The hot twisting sensation in her stomach surged outward from its point of origin, flowed up to her chest, and sunk down low; the prickling along her spine turned into electricity. She exhaled harshly, making him pause.

“I’ll—I can stop any time.” She examined his eyes, his now-serious face, his tense body. He was almost shaking, but he could, he _would_, no matter what else he wanted, she could see that. It felt like the snakes of liquid flame that had shown up so recently every time they touched constricted her heart.

She laid one finger across his lips. “Not yet.” She raised her hand to his head. “Can I touch your hair?”

A fiery spark appeared in his eyes as if saying _yes, he’d set himself ablaze if it meant she would touch him_, but all he did was bow his head. Phoebe softly brushed her fingers over his forehead, stroking upward until her fingers caressed his hairline, then slipping her fingers into his hair with care. Rick smirked, his eyes closing as he tentatively slid his hand down her neck to rest between her shoulders, then lowered his head further. Just as his lips made contact with hers again, the screen door opened.

“Hey, anyone out here know if there’s more booze and food somewhere else in the house? We’re running low.”

Rick’s head whipped up as he glared at the intruder, unintentionally breaking contact with Phoebe’s hand in the process. “Piss off,” he snarled, but their quiet bubble had already burst, the moment interrupted. Phoebe felt its loss keenly.

The teen, a tall boy with wild curly hair, glasses, and a smattering of freckles, scowled petulantly. “Geez, just asking. Whatever man.”

He slammed the door, leaving the two of them in a tense silence. Phoebe decided to break the quiet as Rick glared at the door as if it had personally offended him. “Should we help them? I think there’s some room temperature beer in the pantry, and I know where Beth keeps her wine.”

Rick looked down at her, tracing her ear lightly with one finger. “Is that what you want?”

Phoebe searched his silver eyes, his expression unreadable. “Of course not, but if we don’t do something, he won’t be the only one looking for us, and we can’t get rid of them until we’re back in our own world.”

Rick sighed, resigned, a scowl already forming. “Fuck, I hate that you’re right.” His hands reluctantly drew away from her back and face. “Come on then,” he grumbled, “let’s go take care of the whiny drunk idiots.”

Phoebe touched the back of his hand with her fingers before he could pull too far away from her. “What did..._that _mean?”

Rick’s shoulders slumped as he withdrew his flask and took a long, hard pull from it. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he put it away. “What do you want it to mean?”

Phoebe bit the inside of her cheek. It seemed as if Rick didn’t want to be the one to put himself out there first. _Was it the vulnerability, the fact that he would have to open himself to her in certain ways, the fact that she could _hurt _him in a new, different way now? _The man was obviously deeply wounded by _something_, and had trust issues galore. _Maybe he didn’t want to be the one to define them, because he couldn’t be sure what direction she wanted to take. Maybe he wanted to avoid rejection. _

Phoebe tentatively took his hand in her own. “I don’t want us to walk back in and forget about this. I don’t want us to pretend it never happened. I don’t want you to avoid me, or get weird about it.” She hesitantly reached for his face, turning his head toward herself without applying much pressure. “It means that when we have some time to ourselves, I want to see where this goes, not because some other version of us has already done it or will do it, but because this version of _me_ is in this moment with this version of _you, _and I don’t see you as interchangeable.” His eyes gleamed darkly as he studied her, though he said nothing. “You’re my Rick, and they’re not,” she finished.

“This is why,” he drawled thoughtfully after a moment of staring into her face, something gruff and utterly raw about his voice. “_This is why_. Phoebes _really _don’t know what effect they have on Ricks, do they?”

Phoebe blinked, at a loss. “I don’t know what you mean, Rick.” Rick’s lips drew upward, though she wasn’t sure if she would call it a smile. “I don’t quite follow.”

His hand came to rest on the side of her neck as gently as he had touched her face minutes earlier. “No, as brilliant as you are, you really can’t see it, can you? None of you can. You’re blind to it.”

Phoebe opened her mouth to protest, but Rick dropped a slow kiss there, silencing her. “No, it’s all right, don’t—don’t say anything,” he murmured against her lips. “We don’t hold it against you, none of us do. You just—you’re just…” Rick trailed off with a sigh that got lost in another kiss, this one the shortest of all. He pulled away from her, opening the sliding-glass door with a long-suffering sigh. “Come on, then.”

Phoebe followed Rick into the party with one last glance out over the strange world Morty had accidentally sent them to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> por favor, no en nuestras camas = 'please, not in our beds.' You can imagine why she might beg Squanchy not to do it there. XD
> 
> Qué piensas? = "what are you thinking?"


	24. Winding To A Halt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edana does a nice thing for Rick after he crashes, time stands still, Bird Person finally tells Phoebe and Morty what Rick was really saying in his language, and we get a touching family moment with Morty and Phoebe.

_Part Three_

A little under forty-five minutes had passed since Morty’s party left. In that time, they’d managed to bang out more food—grudgingly sharing what they made since Summer ran out of her own—and produce more alcohol. They’d used the freeze gun on low setting to chill it, then distributed it to a cheering crowd. Rick had been by her side constantly since they rejoined the party, and she caught him watching her more than once, expression unreadable. She found herself watching him as well, running over the kiss, the conversation, and her own musings in her mind. She was still doing that when Morty rushed into the room with the sad nerdy teen, a small red sack in hand. “Rick, I got them! I got the crystals!”

Mercifully, Morty’s entrance interrupted Gear Head’s drunken, mournful singing about the Gear Wars as he strummed a melancholy melody on his instrument. Phoebe had been fantasizing about taking the damn thing from him and bludgeoning him with it, and so felt an immense wash of relief to see her nephew. Rick jumped up immediately and went to retrieve the sack from Morty. “All right! You did it, Morty.”

“Rick, wait!” Morty cried as Rick carried the bag back to where he’d been sitting beside Phoebe on the couch.

“There's something you need to know…” Morty gave a tearful account of Abradolf Lincler’s last words, lauding him as almost heroic, a lost man who saw Rick as a father figure and wanted his forgiveness and acceptance. Beside him, the nerdy teen sobbed, tears streaming down her face as well.

“Well, at least he didn't die in vain. He got these crystals,” Rick replied. He stared down at the bag, a thoughtful look on his face. “Although now I don’t really need them. I mean, at the moment it's kind of the opposite of wubba, lubba, dub, dub.” He shrugged. “Guess I’ll save these babies for later.” He tossed the bag to Phoebe, whose hand shot out to catch it like lightning striking.

“All right, it’s almost time to end this lame-ass party and send everyone home,” Rick shouted. “Finish the food, finish the drinks, then get the hell out and go to the after-party no doubt being hosted by someone else who came to this one! But first—play something, somebody, play something.”

A flurry of activity erupted as people went to get more food and drink or to get back onto the dance floor, which was essentially any clear space in the room. The music started back up, this time the Macarena of all things playing. People seemed too drunk to either notice or give many fucks, moving even more clumsily through the steps than they had for earlier dances.

Morty looked around, stunned, then he exploded. “Wait a minute. What? What the hell is this?!” He gestured angrily at the sack of kalaxian crystals held loosely in Phoebe’s hand. “I got those crystals to help us get home and you’re not even going to use them?”

“Oh, I intend to use them, Morty, but I didn’t need them to get us home. I can do that whenever I want to. But, listen, speaking of those crystals, don’t worry about what they do, Morty, just finish strong.”

Apparently Morty finally snapped for the night. He started outright ranting at Rick as their guests stumbled to a halt and turned to stare at them. “Finish strong? _Finish strong_, Rick? Fuck you! You think I care about your stupid party? I thought—I thought we were stuck here, Rick! Y-y-you sent me on some fake quest to get some crap you don’t even need, Rick! Fuck you!” He whirled around, glaring at everyone in his line of sight. “All right, screw this! Everybody, party is officially _over_! Forget the food and drink and dancing, just get the fuck out now! Rick, take us home now!”

Phoebe tried calming him down. “All right, maybe Rick misled you a little, but no harm done— “

“You don’t get to talk, Phoebe, y-y-you’re just as bad as Rick. You helped him throw this stupid party, and—and you’re always conspiring with him!”

“Whoa, Morty, don’t jump down Phoebe’s throat,” Rick warned. “Not cool, man, not cool.”

Phoebe stood, looping the sack strings over her wrist. Rather than yelling, her restrained, even voice seemed louder somehow. “You know, you’ve been petulant and angry for _weeks_, Morty, and I’ve been patient with you, but news flash: You’re not the only one who almost died, that was all three of us. Rick and I are just trying to make the best of things, and you know another thing? We did this for you as much as for us, and you just keep throwing tantrums every step of the way and shitting on everything we did anyway.” Her quiet disappointment did more than yelling could have at the moment. With each word she spoke Morty shrank in on himself, losing some of his fire and actually looking a little contrite.

“Gosh, Phoebe, I—”

Rick cut him off with a scowl. “All right, all right, this has gone on long enough, Morty, you party pooper buzzkill, have it your way.” He addressed the room next. “Boo, boo! Morty sucks! Boo!” The guests quickly followed his example, and though quelled, Morty seemed unrepentant.

The booing continued for another minute before Rick returned them to their own world—which, Phoebe noted, was bright with the light of day, which meant they had been gone for far longer than she thought—then Phoebe found herself saying goodbye to Squanchy as he led a line of guests toward the front door. “Hey, squanchers! The party's squanching on at my place!” The proclamation was met with cheers from the exited crowd.

Phoebe followed Squanchy to the door just in time to witness him deny Summer access to his party due to her earlier bullying of the nerdy teen, who was apparently named Nancy. Nancy had a few choice words to share with Summer before she left. Phoebe sidled up to Squanchy before he could quite get out the door, then tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, she bent down for a hug of farewell. “It was good seeing you, Squanchy. Thanks again for coming.”

“Your and Rick’s party was squanch-tastic, Phoebe.”

Phoebe smiled. “Thanks, that means a lot coming from you.”

“Remember that you and Rick can squanch on by at any time.”

Phoebe nodded. “To be honest, if Morty wasn’t so worked up and we didn’t have to clean this place up so soon, we’d probably come with you now.”

“There’s always a next time,” Squanchy shrugged. “I’m off now.”

A few more stragglers followed him out, and then the hallway was empty. Nancy must have slipped past her while she spoke to Squanchy, and Summer must have retreated somewhere in the house, probably to lick her wounds, figuratively speaking. Phoebe returned to the living room to find her guess immediately confirmed. Summer lounged in one of the recliners looking none too pleased. “Next time I party, I'm just gonna focus on getting totally wrecked or having a good time, like you and Grandpa Rick,” she grumbled as soon as she saw Phoebe. “You're both so wise.”

Phoebe scoffed. “If you’re going to throw a party, Summer, it should always be about you, not about impressing everyone else there.” She glanced over and saw Rick face-down on the couch. “What the fuck.”

Summer eyed him as well. “Oh, I think he just crashed.”

Phoebe sighed, but decided to take the time to slip his shoes off, place a pillow under his head, and roll him onto his side so he wouldn’t suffocate himself or aspirate. As she did so, she heard Bird Person talking to Morty, who had a plastic trash bag in hand as he went around trying to start cleanup on his own. “May I assist you with that?” Phoebe stole a glance at them. Bird Person was by the sliding glass doors. _What had he been doing back there? _She frowned in thought at the couch upholstery_. Maybe her friend went out to catch a few insects?_ She wasn’t sure how birdlike his species was in their dietary habits.

Morty agreed uncertainly. “Uh, sure, yeah. Thanks.”

“Morty, do you know what ‘wubba lubba dub dub’ means?”

Phoebe’s movements stilled, though Morty continued to clean. She found herself hanging onto every word, unsure of what she was waiting for or why she was holding her breath, but feeling that the information might be important.

“Uh, that's just Rick's stupid nonsense catchphrase,” Morty replied dismissively.

“It's not nonsense at all.” It sounded like Bird Person had moved closer, walked deeper into the room. Phoebe couldn’t help turning to look at him fully, noting he had indeed moved much closer. He caught her eyes just as he told Morty, who had his back to Phoebe, “In my people's tongue, it means, ‘I am in great pain. Please help me.’” 

Phoebe swallowed thickly and looked down at the sleeping man in question, remembering the times that he’d said the phrase. _He must be in agony, then, with how much he says it. _Her fingers trembled as she stroked his hair away from his face, Morty’s voice interrupting the growing bloom of pain in her chest. “Well, I got news for you. He's saying it ironically.” Out of the corner of her eye, Phoebe noticed Summer getting out of the armchair.

Phoebe’s head snapped up to look at the two. Bird Person was still looking at her. “No, he’s not,” she said quietly, but loud enough for both of them to hear her.

Bird Person blinked his tranquil yet serious eyes at her, then drifted across the room to follow Morty as the teen walked toward the kitchen. “No, Morty. Your aunt is correct: your grandfather is, indeed, in very deep pain. That is why he must numb himself.”

Morty, who had stepped through the hole in the wall directly into the kitchen rather than using the door, gave them both a look of disbelief. “Come on, Phoebe and um…”

Phoebe sighed. “Byrd Pursun,” she and Bird Person said at the same time.

“Come on, Bird Person. Rick's not that complicated. He's just a huge asshole.”

Phoebe shook her head. “No, Morty, Rick is much more than that, though he is also that.” Unbidden, her fingers had continued gently caressing his hair, but she stopped, standing and following her nephew and odd friend.

“Then, Morty, why do you care so much if you are no longer allowed to continue on your adventures together? It appears fate has presented you with an opportunity to free yourself of Rick forever.”

Morty threw down the bag as he exclaimed, “You know what? You're right. I shouldn't even care. This is probably the best thing that could have happened to me. I'm sick of having adventures with Rick.”

She drew her up to her full height as she looked at her nephew, feeling oddly wounded. Maybe because it felt like Morty was rejecting her, too, or because she couldn’t imagine not being able to go on their insane adventures together. “You don’t mean that.”

Morty stared at her with quiet defiance. “I do.”

Bird Person gave Morty a penetrating stare. “My people have another saying: ‘gubba nub nub doo rah kah’. It means, ‘whatever lets you sleep at night.’”

A faint echo of Bird Person saying those exact same words on the night that Rick introduced her to him drifted through her mind. “Wait, Bird Person, you said that to Rick when we first met, why would you do that? What did you mean then?”

Bird Person gave her an equally penetrating stare. “You know the answer to both of those questions, Phoebe.”

“No, I—”

Summer, who had been stacking solo cups on the table but stopped to look at an incoming text message, said, “Guys, mom and dad are, like, right around the corner.”

“What, no, _fuck_.” Phoebe dashed toward the kitchen.

“This is your moment, Morty. Choose wisely,” Bird Person warned Morty. Then he called for Tammy, of all people, and flew off with her, a sharp avian cry ringing from his lips as he did.

Morty’s disgruntlement seemed to vanish as horror slowly took its place. Through the window, Phoebe could see the car at the intersection.

“Wow. We are so screwed,” Summer muttered, noting the same thing.

“That backup plan where we knock out your parents and erase their memories of this is seeming really good right about now,” Phoebe commented. She looked around. “Where’s Morty?”

She got an answer a second later when she heard him frantically trying to wake Rick up. She patiently filled a glass with cold water as she watched the two in the living room. Rick, eyes tightly shut, tried shooing away Morty, who kept hovering over him, shaking him by the shoulder, and trying to pull him up from the couch. “Huh? What? Wait? What? What? Stop.”

“Rick, you got to do something quick. My parents are home.”

Rick sat up with a groan, cradling his head. “Uh, all—all right. All right. Hold—hold on. Just let me—let me get my bearings…” His voice was already rough from sleep and thirst. As he spoke, Phoebe took the glass to Rick, who drank from it greedily. “Ahh! So good.” He looked at her sidelong, sending her a pained smile mixed with a grimace. “Thanks, Phee.”

Morty flailed around, panicking, his earlier conviction totally gone. “We don’t have time for that, you two. Oh, my _god_. They're walking up the driveway.”

Sitting forward and massaging his temples, Rick rasped, “Bring me the thing.”

“What—what thing?” Morty wondered.

Phoebe bent low over the couch. “Come on, Rick, we need more than that, describe it to me. What does it look like, what does it do?”

“The thing. The thing.” Rick groaned, closing his eyes. “The—he—it's got, like, buttons on it and lights on it. It—it—it beeps.”

Morty pulled at his own hair. “Rick! That describes everything in your garage!”

Phoebe tried to fight her own rising panic as she rubbed his shoulder. “That’s a good start,” she murmured patiently, trying to sound encouraging. “Anything else?”

“It kind of looks like a walkie-talkie.” That did it, that was enough. She straightened to go search for it, only to see Summer come into the room with it clutched tightly in one hand.

“Do you mean this?” Summer asked frantically.

“Summer for the win,” Rick drawled, still sounding rough. He raised his arms in weak celebration, then took the device from Summer and hit a button.

“All right, that should do it.”

Morty looked around expectantly as Rick once more cradled his head. “Whoa! What did you do?”

“Uh, s-see for yourself.”

Summer and Morty ran off, but Phoebe came around the couch offering him a hand. He let her draw him into a standing position, leaning heavily on her as they followed after their younger companions. It wasn’t until they were already in the hallway that Phoebe remembered she’d taken his shoes off earlier and that he only had socks on his feet. “Are you really that hungover?” Phoebe murmured to him.

“Mm, sort of. I took something before the party, too, and I’m coming down. Hard.”

Phoebe peered at him critically just as they reached the door, the sound of impressed exclamations reaching her ears. “You’re crashing and you look like death.” He had bags under his eyes and seemed a few shades lighter than usual.

Rick scowled at her as they stepped outside. “I’d flip you off but that would take too much effort.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Don’t get your boxers in a twist, I’ll help you when we’re done dealing with this.” She looked away from him to see Beth and Jerry walking up the path to the house, seemingly frozen in place. “Did you—?”

Rick leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms low. “Yeah, e-everything's frozen in time.” he let his head rest against the frame as well, his eyes closing against the light. “Yeah, and Slow Mobius thinks he's all that.”

As cool as the time thing was, Phoebe really did want to get Rick taken care of soon. He looked even paler outside, his skin dry and thin in appearance, his eyes cupped by dark circles that looked like deep purple bruises. She was afraid he might keel over right then and there.

From where they were examining their parents, Morty asked, “For how long?” He and Summer were poking and prodding them, waving their hands in front of their faces, the whole nine yards.

Rick exhaled tiredly. “I don't know. How long do you guys want? A week? A month?”

“Is this safe?” Phoebe whispered to him. He shrugged one shoulder.

Summer gave a tentative answer. “Can we start cleaning the house and see how we feel?”

Phoebe considered it. “I think we should all get a little sleep first. I mean, they’re not going anywhere anyway, we’re all exhausted, and this is going to take a little while even with some Meeseeks working their magic.” She eyed the three of them, subtly putting her arm around an unsteady Rick so he could lean into her, though a moment later she nearly stumbled when more of his weight than she expected pressed against her. She looked down to note the mildly worrying fact that he was close to passing out if he hadn’t already.

Morty rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, yeah, I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Summer agreed. She shot a look at Morty. “I’m using the upstairs shower first. You can wait or use Grandpa Rick’s.” She disappeared inside without waiting for an answer.

Phoebe sighed. “Morty, you can get your things and shower down here if you want to get it out of the way now. I’m going to—well, I _was _going to try to get some food and electrolytes into Rick, but I don’t know if I can. I’m pretty sure he’s not up for taking a shower right now, at least not unassisted, which is...yeah.”

Morty grimaced. “Aw, geez…”

“Yeah, anyway, I’ll let him do that himself later, but I’m probably going to keep an eye on him right now to monitor him until he can take care of himself again. He took something before the party and I have no idea what, but he’s having it kind of rough.”

“Yeah, gee, I can see that.” Morty seemed a little worried. He stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “Would you— do you want me to get Edana to help you get him inside?” He seemed contrite.

“Yeah, that would be nice, Morty.”

Morty went and banged on a now reattached and whole garage door, shouting for Edana. “Edana, Phoebe needs some help with Rick. He’s like, passed out or something.”

A few seconds passed, then the door rose and Edana emerged from the garage. She took one look at the slumping figure of Rick, then immediately moved to help Phoebe with his weight. Despite her slight figure, she was as strong as any android, and easily lifted Rick into her arms as a mother might carry a sick child. If he were fully conscious, he might protest against the indignity, but as it was he could only feebly push against her arms with one hand before he gave up with a groan, his head lolling slightly and his eyelids squeezing tight.

“Where would you like him?” Edana looked at Phoebe expectantly.

Phoebe had already worked out what she wanted. “If you would, could you take Rick into his room and lay him onto his bed? He’s gonna want to be someplace quiet and dark for a bit. I’ll...set up an IV.” Phoebe thanked every god whose name she thought of off the top of her head for the foresight of her past self. She made sure to keep IV bags and Pedialyte stocked when she noticed that Rick liked to keep a constant supply of alcohol in his system, taking sips throughout the day rather than binge-drinking all at once (not that Phoebe would recommend either; part of the inspiration for the nanobots had to do with worry over his liver, even if a large majority of the inspiration came from experiencing mortal peril). She knew at some point that he would inevitably be hungover, and she figured now, when they were the only unfrozen inhabitants in their frozen timeline, would be one of those times.

Edana acquiesced without argument. Phoebe watched her until she turned the corner by the stairs, then went into the garage through the still-open garage door. Morty followed her, watching her as she went to where she kept the IV bags. She got one out, along with some sterile equipment, alcohol wipes, and gloves. “Do you mind closing the door, Morty?”

“Uh, sure, Phoebe.” He pressed the button, then returned to her side. “I’m really sorry about—about everything.” He scuffed his shoe along the floor, head bowed.

Phoebe turned and gave him a one-sided hug, supplies held against her chest with one arm. “It’s okay, Morty, you were upset. That doesn’t mean I don’t still love you.” She squeezed him into her side. “Favorite nephew, remember?” She released him.

Morty nodded with a small smile, gesturing at the things in her arms. “I guess you have to go take care of Rick now, huh?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and ruffled his hair. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He left the garage just as Edana returned. Without being asked, her android friend got the IV pole and—once Phoebe grabbed the Meeseeks box for good measure—accompanied her back to Rick’s room, where it was immediately evident that Rick had either passed out or fallen asleep. She held Rick up as Phoebe carefully slid his lab coat off of his shoulders. She hung it off the back of his chair, then went to pull off his socks. With Edana’s help, she exchanged his blue sweater for a loose t-shirt and pulled his belt free from the belt-loops. She drew a line at changing his pants, however, and allowed Edana to ease him back down into a comfortable position. She grabbed a spare blanket out of the hall closet, shook it out, and draped it over him, noting that the bathroom door was closed, with the light on and the shower running: it could only be Morty. He must have come down and started while they were getting Rick situated.

“I’ve got everything else,” Phoebe told her, looking down at Rick for a moment. She didn’t mind the help, but she really just wanted some down time herself to recharge after the long night of hosting. Edana left but came back five minutes later to set a glass of milk and a plate containing two sandwiches and chips down on Rick’s dresser. By that point, Phoebe had already set up the IV drip next to the bed. She lunged gratefully at the food, but not before first embracing her friend, who had been rather quiet. “Thank you,” Phoebe murmured into her cool neck. “You didn’t have to. I know Rick’s not always kind to you…”

“I didn’t do it for Rick,” Edana said, holding her loosely and awkwardly patting her back. “I did it for you. You have always attempted to treat me with as much dignity as you treat your own people.”

That only made Phoebe hug her harder. “Still.” She let her go with a sigh, falling on the food without any further ado.

Edana made an amused chirp. “I can bring your clothes down and stay with the rude scientist man while you shower, if you would like. I know where you keep everything.”

Phoebe paused from hungrily devouring the food to answer her. “You really don’t need to…”

Edana hummed. “It would be my pleasure.” 

“Oh, um, all right.” Phoebe had her room key hanging around her neck, but knew it would be faster to use the portal gun, so opened a portal to her room on the far wall. Edana flitted over to and through it before Phoebe could say another word, returning quickly with clothes and her bean-bag chair. She dumped the clothes in a different spot on the dresser and dropped the chair onto the green carpet.

Phoebe couldn’t be bothered to sit despite now having a chair. She continued standing as she finished eating, reaching for the Meeseeks box. With one hand she pressed the button three times. She met their greeting with a list of chores. “I need you lot to start cleaning up the house. Pick up any trash—empty bottles, discarded paper plates and plastic cups, that sort of thing, then clean up any spills on the floors and walls, put up any leftover food, wash the dishes, clean the chocolate fountain and put it up, things like that, then you’re free to disappear.” The Meeseeks filed out to complete their tasks, each happy to be of help but eager to get through the work and die once more.

Phoebe didn’t touch her milk until nearly the end, when she gulped down most of it in one go. “Ah, fuck, I must have been hungrier than I thought,” she muttered when she was done, glancing sheepishly at a spotless plate and empty glass.

“I could tell you needed sustenance.” Edana still sounded amused.

Phoebe blushed. “Eh, maybe.”

Edana waggled a finger at her. “It is important, if you wish to take care of others, to take care of yourself first.”

Morty, now wearing blue pajamas, stuck his head into the room just then. “The bathroom is all yours. I tried to be quick.” He waved at them, then walked off in the direction of the stairs.

“Have a good rest,” Phoebe called after him.

“Yeah,” he replied. “You too.”

Phoebe picked up her dishes and carried them into the kitchen, where one of the Meeseeks saw her and took them from her. When she got back to the room, Edana was examining one of the discarded items Rick had sitting in a box on the other side of his room. Phoebe snagged her clothes off of the dresser where Edana left them, hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

“Are you sure, Edana? You don’t have to, especially since it’s just a precaution. I honestly think he’ll be fine and just needs some rest now…”

“Yes, he will be fine. Don’t worry, I won't suffocate him while you shower, no matter how tempting.”

Phoebe snickered. “I appreciate that. I know how difficult that must be for you.”

Edana waved her away one final time. Phoebe slipped into the bathroom, closed the door, and gave herself a moment just for breathing deeply, then she laid her night clothes on the counter. First she disarmed herself, laying all of her daggers on the counter next to her bag, then stripped off her _cheongsam_ and boots with care. She let the water adjust to the right temperature, stepping under the warm stream when it was to her liking. She looked around the shower until she found the body wash, then set to work, moving as quickly as possible. She trusted Edana not to hurt Rick, but she didn’t want to inconvenience her more than she already had. One wash, two, then she was getting out and patting herself off with a towel from the cupboard by the door. She took her hair out of the crown braid and restyled it into a single long plait, opened a still-packaged toothbrush from the drawer, brushed her teeth, and pulled on her clean clothes and satin cap. She carefully gathered all of her things to her chest and made her way back to the room, where she laid everything on top of Rick’s dresser. She noticed with a flood of fondness that Edana had put both of their phones on the charger and laid them on top of the stand Rick had next to the head of his bed.

“All right, that’s it, I’ll take over from here—for real, this time.” She could feel tiredness dragging at her own body, but she still wanted to make sure that Rick would be all right, and she could do that best if she stayed nearby. There was another spare blanket in the closet that was calling her name.

Edana chirped fondly, touching her hand as she stood beside her. “I will leave you and the asshole to your own devices, then.”

Phoebe hugged her again, then watched as she exited the room. With a sigh, she went to fetch the other blanket and a pillow, shaking them out carefully in the hallway before using them. She closed the door and set up the bean-bag chair so that she could sit close by the bed. She fluffed the pillow and slipped it behind her neck, covered herself with the blanket, and settled in to wait, one hand reaching out for one of Rick’s. She tried staying awake for as long as possible, constantly checking the IV, but eventually she dozed off with his hand still in hers.


	25. Interlude One: Something Just Like This,  A J19ζ7 Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude One: Something Just Like This, A J19ζ7 Interlude, OR, in which we get a little peak into the lives of another version of Rick and Phoebe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, cats, bet you thought you'd seen the last of me! XD. In all seriousness, I hope you all are doing well in these trying times and that a little Rick-Phoebe feels can help keep ya going. Sorry about the wait, but I hope it will be worth it. We have here an interlude as we switch between seasons that entails some tooth-rotting fluff with Rick J19ζ7 (J-Nineteen-Theta-Seven), commonly known as "Doofus Rick", and J19ζ7 Phoebe.

The dawn light crept slowly into the dark room, filtering through the cream colored curtains drawn over the blinds. Phoebe stared fondly at the nude man curled into her right side, his head pillowed against the slight swell of her belly and his ear pressed firmly into place. His blue-gray hair fanned out in stark contrast to her brown skin. As she stroked the fine strands away from his forehead, he let out a contented hum. She brought her other hand up to rest atop the hand he had splayed against her lower belly. Her voice came out in a soft whisper. “Do you feel it yet? That’s the heartbeat, Rick.”

“I do, Phee.” He nuzzled into her, then sat up to look into her face, his own full of innocent wonder and open adoration. “I didn’t think I’d ever have a family of my own, Phoebe. Most of the other Ricks have a Beth and a Morty even if they don’t have a Summer.” He looked down wistfully. “I…I didn’t think I’d have this.”

Her heart clenched hearing about how isolated he’d been in comparison to most other Ricks. She knew that unlike many of the other Ricks, her Rick had never married Beth’s mother, had never had _Beth_, and therefore no Morty or Summer. Jerry, of course, still existed, since he didn’t have to depend on a Rick to do so. Instead of living with Beth, he lived alone. Phoebe had moved to the same city, gotten an apartment to stay in while she attended grad school, and tried visiting him every once in a while. She usually took a bus to and from campus, which, ironically, brought her and her Rick together. So many of their counterparts met because of their equal proximity to the Smiths, but she’d met Rick even without that connection binding them together. 

On a day when she’d missed the bus back to her apartment, a rainstorm broke out and she had to duck into a coffee shop on campus. Once inside, she’d run into one of the research professors sitting at a table alone. They got to talking, and after that they’d met there often to discuss projects the two of them worked on until, eventually, they started working together out of his home laboratory. Since he never taught any of her classes or oversaw any of her grades, it didn’t create any sort of academic scandal or worries of favoritism, although it did raise the eyebrows of a few other professors and students who didn’t approve of their age gap. It was the other Ricks who raised the biggest objection, though, _especially _the Ricks with no Phoebe. They grew to resent him because he was one of their number who found his version of Phoebe first, not to mention completely by chance, and she’d fallen in love with him.

He was easy for them to sneer at anyway, because he wasn’t as jaded as they were, hadn’t experienced the trauma and loss they had—and he worked for an institution. He was the naivest Rick, the most innocent one. He was the one that hadn’t learned to close himself off from the world, to still look at it with almost childlike wonder. As a result of his nature and his profession, they were cruel to him already, often spreading bogus rumors about him to yet other Ricks, like the one circulating currently that he ate shit, but his relationship with Phoebe only made it worse. They swore up and down that he was the dumbest Rick, but really he was the Rick who still felt the most hope and awe. He hadn’t been battered down by the world in the same ways that they had. As much as she saw the allure in the other Ricks, as much as they flirted with her and tried to draw her away with sweet, cajoling, heady promises of adventure and tech and power, they weren’t _hers. _

Phoebe raised a hand to cup his cheek, then pulled him in for a short kiss. She leaned her forehead against his. “I know, but now you do. It’s happening. It’s real. I’m real. _We’re_ real.”

Her Rick grinned jubilantly at her, flashing his large, slightly uneven front teeth. “I’m so happy that I get to share this with you.”

Unable to help herself, she brought him in for another short kiss, then lowered her head to his shoulder and turned into the unblemished skin of his pale neck. “I am too.” She inhaled the scent of peppermint shampoo, utterly content. “Why don’t we go to the farmer’s market today since we got up so early?”

Rick nodded enthusiastically. “Sure, that sounds like a great idea.”

He pushed the blankets off of them and helped her stand, knowing that her center of gravity would be off slightly given the recent changes to her body. She took her time to get dressed, carefully pinning her braids with a few senbon and securing a small dagger into a discreet holster on each wrist that her sleeves hid nicely. Rick helped her into the sleeves of her lab coat once he finished pulling on his own clothes and clipping their collie mix, Moxie, onto a leash. After that, they were off to the market. They walked side-by-side with their arms around each other, Moxie trotting obediently at heel instead of running ahead of them. There seemed to be few people out on their street that morning. As they got closer to the market, however, the number of people out and about increased. When they finally walked into the mall parking lot reserved for the market, it was to a quiet bustle of activity.

Phoebe drew away slightly only to take Rick’s hand. She then made a beeline for the booth selling honey. She flashed a smile at the elderly beekeeper behind the stall. “Morning, Dale. How’ve you been this past week?”

The wizened woman returned her smile, her face lighting up with familiarity. “Morning, Phoebe. I’ve been just fine. The usual?” At her nod, she began carefully bagging one large jar of honey and a few small beeswax candles. Without prompting, Rick gave her the appropriate amount of bills. As Dale handed Phoebe their purchases, she said, “My wife heard about your good news. I figured you’d be around this way today, so she baked a cherry pie special for you.”

Phoebe paused, her expression turning even warmer than before. “Oh, how sweet of her.” She clutched the small paper bag to her chest as she dug around in her lab coat. “How much do I owe you?”

Dale chuckled humorlessly. “Woman, don’t make us come after you. It’s free of charge. Just head over to Judy’s booth.”

Phoebe sighed but nodded in acceptance. “Oh, all right. I just hope you know how much we appreciate it.” She gently placed the paper bag into a larger woven one that Rick held open for her.

“Yes, thank you, Dale, that’s very kind of you,” Rick added.

“It’s nothing, you just take care of yourself, you hear?”

Phoebe laughed. “I’ll try.”

Dale turned to Rick with a broad smile. “You make sure she does. The universe needs her.”

Rick looked at Phoebe so fondly that it made the hearts of passersby melt. “Don’t I know it.”

Phoebe huffed affectionately with fake exasperation. “Oh, come on, you. Bye, Dale!”

They experienced similar warmth and familiarity as they bought eggs, herbs, strawberries, blueberries, peaches, tomatoes, cucumbers, bread, milk, and fresh cuts of venison and bison. By the time they left, their woven bag was full, bulging not only with produce, but with gifts, some of which wouldn’t fit and had to be carried. The two of them agreed to take a short walk through the park on the way home, and by the time they reached their front door, Phoebe was glad for the cool interior of her own home. It had started to get warmer outside, the cool of the morning evaporating as the sun rose higher above the horizon. When they got inside, Rick put most of it away to let Phoebe rest off her feet. Moxie sat with his head in her lap, to which she responded by affectionately rubbing his ears. She watched Rick storing everything and couldn’t help the way her eyes and mouth softened even more when she looked at him, at his lanky frame, long limbs, and combed-down blue-gray hair.

When he finished, Rick handed her a small glass of lemonade and sat with her at the table. “How do you feel, Phoebe?”

Phoebe reached across the table for his hand, leaving one to continue petting Moxie. “I feel fine. I just needed a few moments.”

From her lap, Moxie whined. Phoebe sighed. “Fine, I needed more than a few moments, but I’m all right. It just takes more energy for me to do things than it used to.”

Rick glanced toward the barely imperceptible bulge at her middle. “Do you need to lay down again?”

Phoebe’s hand briefly left Moxie's head to wave away Rick’s concern. “No, really. I’m perfectly fine now, but if you’re worried we can wait an hour before we go to the botanical gardens.”

He stroked her hand with his thumb. “I think that would be best, just to be safe.”

Under the weight of his honest concern for her, Phoebe couldn’t bother feeling indignant. “That’s what we’ll do then, and we’ll have breakfast. Should we go to the lab afterward?”

He caressed her cheek. “Only if you’re up to it.”

Phoebe’s lips curled upward. “For science? Always.”

As they worked side-by-side to make a full breakfast, her mind wandered back to how everything started.

_The rain came suddenly. _

_With the bus pulling around the corner and her mad dash from the graduate research center ending in vain, Phoebe stuttered to a halt, resigned to waiting another thirty minutes to get home. With nothing better to do, she considered taking out her notes to read over them, but at that moment, the first few drops fell, then more came in swift succession. She glanced around frantically for the closest building, then dashed up the few steps in front of it. Just as she wrenched the door open, the sky opened up and it poured, prompting her to dart inside in an attempt to keep from ruining her notebook or laptop. If it didn’t let up she might be waiting a bit longer than half an hour to get back home._

_She paused at the threshold as the door swung shut behind her, inhaling the scents that wafted her way. That day, as it had every day and continued to in the present, the shop smelled of baked goods in the oven, rich cocoa, coffee grounds, and black tea. Phoebe shuffled further into the room, ordered a hot chocolate and then looked around for a suitable table. Unfortunately for her, they’d all been taken, and except for one table in the corner, there were no seats left to beg off of the current inhabitants. She hesitantly walked over to it, clearing her throat as she came to stand next to the empty seat. She felt for all the world like some middle-schooler trying to find somewhere to eat lunch. “Excuse me, but is this seat taken?”_

_The sole occupant has been reading quietly when she approached, pouring over a spread of notes, calculation sheets, and data printouts. He raised his head, peering at her with silvery eyes, his blue-gray hair brushed down neatly against his skull. He smiled hesitantly at her, looking a little sheepish as he flashed his trademark abnormally large, oddly shaped front teeth. “Why, no, it’s not.” _

_Phoebe exhaled in relief. “Thanks. I’m sorry to bother you. You’re a lifesaver. I was this close to getting caught in the rain after I missed my bus.” She sat down opposite him, hanging her messenger bag and jacket on her seat. _

_“It’s no bother at all.” He flashed another one of his 100-watt smiles as he quickly shuffled all of his papers into one pile to make room for her, and Phoebe couldn’t help but find him adorable. _

_She wrapped both hands around her hot chocolate, letting the warmth see into them. She thought trying to make conversation might be best. He seemed to want to talk but to be struggling to say anything. Perhaps he was painfully shy or socially awkward? “I see you work at the university.” _

_His hand went to scratch nervously at the back of his neck. “Ah, yeah, in the research department. You’re an undergraduate student, right? Have you decided on a major?”_

_Phoebe, who’d raised her cup cautiously to her lips to attempt taking a measured sip, accidentally sent a flood of hot liquid into her mouth. She coughed and spluttered, heavily sitting her cup on the table. The strange man across from her moved to help her, but she waved him away, collecting herself. “I’m fi—” _cough_ “—fine.” She straightened with a sigh, trying to look reassuring. “I’m actually not an undergraduate. I’m getting my masters in biochemistry here.”_

_A flash of pleasant surprise passed over his face, intermingled with his own sheepish embarrassment. “Oh, well that’s wonderful. Congratulations. You must have worked very hard to get here at such a young age.”_

_Phoebe managed another smile despite the slight twinge of discomfort in her mouth. “I did: early college, dual enrollment, and summer and online classes.”_

_The man ducked his head to look at her from under his lashes. “You must be pretty smart, then.” _

_Phoebe checked his face for signs he was flirting with her, but she only saw open earnestness and honesty. “That’s what people tell me,” she replied casually. She gestured toward his papers. “Would it be okay to ask what you’re working on, or is that confidential information?”_

_He glanced down at his stack of work. “Oh, this? It’s about fabrics that can absorb solar energy.”_

_Phoebe leaned forward with interest. “Really? I’ve been researching biofuels recently. Actually, I submitted a patent for some of my research.”_

_He lit up then. “Oh, I think I read about some young scientist doing that in some of the research journals. You’re Phoebe Johnson.”_

_Phoebe nodded. “The very same.”_

_He waved his hands around as if he just needed something to do with them. “That was wonderful work.” _

_Phoebe wanted to blush with all of his unabashed compliments. There was something about him, something that made her feel drawn to him despite his unusual, slightly dopey appearance. He seemed genuine and kind, a little wide-eyed for someone his age. For her it was endearing. “Thank you,” she murmured, ducking her head to sip delicately at her now cooler hot chocolate. “So, what’s your name, then?”_

_“Oh, me? I’m Dr. Sanchez. I work in the scientific research division at the university.”_

_Well that explained things. She’d heard through word of mouth about a slightly eccentric research professor in the science building. He was mostly quiet, kept to himself, though not unkind or unfriendly. He was the shy researcher who most often took on lab assistants and apprentices, and who was most willing to collaborate on projects. She heard how some of the other professors talked about him behind his back, about his ‘odd ways’ that to her sounded like what some might refer to as an adult who was a ‘high-functioning’ autistic person. She hated functioning labels anyway, and the fact that they treated him differently for possibly being autistic made her reluctant to work with any of them, although thankfully all of the faculty weren’t like that. She decided then and there that she’d rather work with him than with any of those snobs. _

_“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Sanchez.” She gave him a kind look, extending her hand as she leaned forward even more. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and I was wondering...do you have anyone working with you in the lab this semester?”_

_He blinked at her confusedly for a moment, apparently not expecting her to take that track. He glanced down at her hand, taking it hesitantly. “I do, but there’s room for another. Ixia and Ravi shouldn’t mind.” _

_And that was that. That was how she ended up in the lab with him. The coffee shop was an easy meeting place on campus when they weren’t in the lab, a place to unwind while they analyzed the results of current projects and considered new ones. She could never say when exactly she started to go, but eventually their work carried over to the personal lab at his home. She’d been apprehensive at first about meeting him there, but it was obvious since they met that he was beyond harmless and without a single malicious bone in his body. Besides, as a fencer and constantly carried weapons on her person, she could easily subdue him if she needed to. _

_In fact, in the end, the only thing she had to worry about was her own feelings. At first she thought it was a crush brought on by spending so much time together, so she tried to pull back, but the feelings didn’t fade no matter how much she tried shutting him out. They only got more intense as time wore on, to the point that she had to wonder if others noticed, if Rick did. Even if he had, he was too shy to ever make the first move, and she didn’t want to ruin the relationship they did have as friends and sort-of-colleagues._

_One winter day, when she and Rick were in his lab for hours on end, a blizzard came over the city. By the time they noticed, they were snowed in with the storm raging around them and Phoebe had to stay until it blew over. She didn’t know what came over her watching Rick make some of his oven-less brownies, but when he’d looked up at her, eyes shining and excited to share in a bit of science with someone who’d sit patiently and listen, she knew she couldn’t hide how she felt any longer. _

_She grabbed for his hand. He broke off from his explanation mid-sentence. “Phoebe?”_

_The uncertainty and curiosity in his voice gave her only a moment of hesitation. She pulled her hand away to clasp both hands together, biting her lip. “I’m sorry, Rick, but I can’t not tell you, especially since you’ve become such a good friend. I can’t hide this anymore. The truth is that I...well, I have feelings for you. If you want me to transfer to work with another researcher, I understand—”_

_He blushed heavily, gently reaching out to reclaim the hand that she’d pulled away from him. He turned their hands so that their fingers could intertwine, and ducked his head, looking at her from underneath his lashes. “Gosh, Phoebe, I….Please don’t transfer. I don’t want you to work with another researcher. I...feel the same way.”_

_The shy honesty and affection in his eyes made her melt. “Can I kiss you?”_

_If possible his cheeks flushed an even deeper red. He gave her a nervous reply. “O-o-only if you want to.” _

_Phoebe smiled gently at him. “I do.” _

_She leaned forward, pressing her lips tenderly to his. He made some sort of whining noise and melted right then and there. _

_Phoebe didn’t leave immediately when the storm lifted. From that point on, she visited even more often than before, sometimes spending the night and heading onto campus with him. She fast-tracked her masters to graduate early, and on the day of graduation, they got married. A month after the marriage, and she realized she was late. She took four different at-home tests, then used Rick’s lab to conduct two more. There was no denying it at that point that she was with child. _

_She was worried how he’d react despite how his overall demeanor differed from most of the other Ricks. When she told her Rick, though, he actually burst into tears, hoisting her up in his arms and spinning her around, telling her how deliriously happy he felt to finally have a family. _

Phoebe emerged from her thoughts with a content smile, dipping a finger into the tub of whipped cream intended for the pancakes on the kitchen table as Rick walked by with it. He turned to her and she used the opportunity to dab a bit onto his nose, grinning playfully. “I love you,” she told him, taking it from his hands and setting it on the counter. She drew him in for a kiss, then let her head rest on his chest over his heart.

He held her close. “I love you too, Phoebe.”

She believed him.


	26. Once Upon a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking Blue Fire didn't go quite as planned for Rick. 
> 
> PS: Consider listening to Talia by King Princess in relation to this chapter. Parts of it just hit so hard. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I'd be back with the rest of the update. :3 Behold, the next 16, 700 words concerning our Science Duo. 
> 
> Definitely a tw for mentions of substance use/abuse for this chapter and the next two, but no graphic descriptions. It’s only mentioned in passing.
> 
> Oh, and two important details, the first being that ‘Diane’ is Máte, in case that’s confusing (I did go back and change the one name-explicit mention I made of his wife in the fantasy world arc, which is...chapter ten, I think?). It’s canon that the memory he showed the galactic government operative was a false memory, so I kind of took that and ran with it and used it as a loophole to change her name. I figured Rick wouldn’t have told them her real name. The second thing…is that this is a Rick chapter!
> 
> :)
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> …

The worst side effect of coming down from Blue Fire, Rick discovered early on, was the dreams it caused. Sure, it lowered inhibitions and brought the world into sharp focus, but it also drudged up things that might better be forgotten, bringing any repressed feelings or memories to the surface. It consequently gave those old memories new clarity while the emotions brought forth tended to rage in intensity. In Rick’s case, it meant he had nowhere to hide, nowhere to stuff down all the things he didn’t think about, all the things for which alcohol dulled the edge of and made bearable. He couldn’t escape from his feelings for Phoebe, and he couldn’t escape from the heartbreak of losing Máte. The Blue Fire would make everything surface for twenty-four hours as it left his system, even after he officially crashed from the initial high.

_Máte. _

Before Morty, he didn’t have anyone to block out his brainwaves. Instead he had to rely on stealth, on devices that only worked half of the time, and on not staying in the same location for longer than necessary. He made sure he saw Beth and Máte often, but it was never enough for Máte, and who could blame her? There was no amount of money or gifts that could alleviate the isolation of raising a child mostly alone. But he couldn’t exactly ask them to come with him every time he risked life and limb, could he? He couldn’t endanger them that way. Risking himself was one thing, but risking them? Unthinkable.

He could feel the dream world taking shape around him. When he opened his eyes in his dream, he found himself in his old apartment, sitting on his sofa. His dream-self had a double shot glass in one hand, with a bottle of whiskey in the other. He only had a second to consider which memories he would relive when _her_ voice cut through the quiet. “You care for her quite a bit, don’t you?”

Rick found himself on his feet without even thinking of it. His grip went limp, and the shot glass and whiskey fell to the floor in an explosion of glass and alcohol as he turned to the speaker. Máte sat calmly at the kitchen table, her expression neutral behind her familiar cat-eye framed glasses. She was wearing her usual pastel outfit, all of her hair falling over one shoulder. How many times had he taken something for moments like this—to hear her voice again, to see her face, to touch her? Except this time, he hadn’t taken anything to bring them together. He hadn’t consistently in a long time, not since he’d started getting closer to Phoebe. He’d taken the Blue Fire to lower his inhibitions and heighten his senses, and now he was dealing with the other side-effects of it. He knew she wasn’t real, that she was just a weird combination of his memories and a hallucinatory dream, but he answered her anyway. “Nothing matters.”

Máte got up from her seat and crossed the small distance between them to get to him, reaching out to touch his face. “_She_ does. She matters to you. I can see it in your eyes no matter how much you want to hide it.” She cupped his jaw, and he leaned into her hand. “Remember, Richard, she’s not the only one who can read you.”

Máte most often called him Richard when she wanted to make a point, when she had something incredibly serious to tell him, or when she thought he was hiding something. Interesting, to be manipulated by your own subconscious. Rick pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “You mattered, too.” There was no reason not to say it here, to allow that truth room in the open air, where no one would know but him and the drug-induced hallucination of his dead wife.

Máte smiled softly at him. “I know.”

Rick knew logically that he wouldn’t get any real answers. He could only get whatever his subconscious postulated about Máte’s reasons. Still, he had to ask her. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you let me know?”

Máte bit her lip and looked at him between her lashes. Instead of some semblance of an answer, she returned a question of her own. “Would that have changed anything, Rick?” She tilted her head to peer intently into his face. “Would it have made anything less painful?”

Rick looked down and away from her. “We both know that in the end it doesn’t matter why you did it. You’re still...” He trailed off, unable to say the word. _Dead. She was still dead. _

“That’s what I thought.”

Even in his subconscious mind, he tried fighting the tears that wanted to fall. “It doesn’t matter _why _because you still left me. You—you couldn’t just_ tell_ me so I could have—could have done something. You chose to die without saying a word to me about it.”

Máte—the vision of Máte, both—leaned in against him, laying her head on his shoulder. “We both know that you left first, Richard.”

Rick couldn’t help but stroke the blonde head flush to his chest. Her hair felt in his dream just the way he remembered it: silken, thicker than his. He found himself using her full given name as he felt the familiar surge of grief-driven anger. “Don’t give me that crap, María-Teresa. I couldn’t just—I couldn’t just take you and Beth with me every single time I did something dangerous. I had to protect you.”

The memory-vision hybrid hummed. “Right, by never being there for Bethany.”

Rick held her at arm’s length. “Do you really think I ever left her alone? That I’d ever leave the two of you alone? I spent hours on the surveillance and security I put in place. I made an entire pocket dimension for Beth.”

Máte sighed, tipping her head up to look at him. She uttered her reproach quietly. “It wasn’t the same without you.”

Rick’s arms tightened around the apparition of the former astrophysicist, the woman who regularly greeted him with paint on her cheek or brushes in her pocket. Rick could still remember when he’d tracked down a few of Frieda Kahlo’s paint brushes to give her for her birthday. “It was a calculated decision, Máte, one I don’t have to make now. With Morty and Phoebe, I can stay in the same place for as long as I fucking feel like it.”

He expected more from her than the single self-satisfied word she offered. “Good.”

Rick rested his chin on the crown of her head. The vivid scent of her shampoo wafted into his face. Blue Fire could do that, could make any sense heightened and make phantom senses indistinguishable from current ones. “Good? That’s all you’ve got to say, huh?”

She didn’t respond immediately. They stood in silence for what seemed like several minutes, but could really only be milliseconds. Then Máte spoke again, her hand going to the side of his neck. “They’re good for you, Rick. _She’s_ good for you. Don’t take that for granted and let them slip through your fingers. Don’t push her away. We both know what she means to you now, what this family means to you, even if you’d rather die than say so.”

“And what do they mean to me, exactly?”

“You tell me, Rick.”

“Shouldn’t you know already?”

“How would I? I’m not you.”

“No, you’re just—a chemical reaction initiated by the Blue Fire, a misfiring of synapses.”

He believed it, and yet in an enmeshment of memory and hallucination and dream, in a vision world that probably didn’t extend past the confines of his old apartment, she felt real, even though every fiber of his being understood that she wasn’t. Her skin, her hair, her clothes—sights and sensations excavated from the bowels of his most deeply buried memories.

Máte gazed at him lovingly as she used her thumb to draw circles on his chin. “Maybe that’s what I am, if that’s what you’d like to believe. Or maybe that’s the comfortable lie you tell yourself. You were always good with those.”

Rick stared down at her, lips drawn into a thin line. “So this is the oh-so-important message my subconscious wanted to pass onto me? That I’m insane or haunted? That these moments we have aren’t somehow manufactured by all the crap I’ve taken just to see you again?”

“No. I came to tell you that it’s okay to let me go,” she whispered into the shadow of his throat. “You’ve been carrying around my ghost all these years. There’s a void with my outline in your heart. You don’t have to keep living at the foot of my grave. Promise me you won’t, Rick.”

Rick swallowed thickly as he gently separated their bodies to hold her at arm’s length. “Save this sappy crap for some other Rick.”

Máte chuckled. “You’re the sentimental one, querido. You said it yourself, I’m just a chemical reaction happening in your brain, a misfiring of synapses—and somehow I’m the ghost your mind conjured.”

Rick had to look away from her again. “So what? What if it did?”

Máte’s hand sought his. “Have I ever misled you?”

Rick’s shoulders slumped. “No. You never lied to me.”

Máte let go of his hand to place her hands on either side of his head. She coaxed Rick into looking at her until she could see his face. “So will you promise me?” Máte prompted again, then planted a tender, familiar kiss on his mouth.

A heavy exhalation left him as he held her close. “Yes, I promise,” he agreed when her lips left his. A single tear fell from his eye as he felt her disappearing from his arms. “I promise,” he whispered again to the empty room as the walls dissolved around him.


	27. Living in the Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick finally wakes up after the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A bit of fluff, flirting, and banter during some down time rather than a life or death situation. Beware of some thirsty/NSFW thoughts from Rick. 
> 
> That’s right, another Rick chapter, whoop!

_After The Party, As Time Stands Still_

Rick expected exhaustion. He expected sore muscles and aching joints. He expected a throat dryer than the Sahara. He expected a magnificent migraine, nausea, chills. He expected to wake up on the cold, hard floor, collapsed on the ground, or dumped on the couch. He did not expect to wake up nearly pain free, sans headache, soreness, or aches, tucked under something warm and nestled into something soft. He did not expect to feel a soft, warm hand holding his own.

He opened his eyes slowly to spare himself the misfortune of being stabbed in the eyeballs with light only to find the room he laid in dark. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was in his own bedroom and not the hallway or living room, familiar papers pinned to the grey walls. Someone had laid him on his bed and placed a spare blanket over him. Part of him absentmindedly noted that it was the ugly one with the duck on it. He turned his head to the side and immediately noticed that the person holding his hand, who happened to be Phoebe, was sitting in a bean-bag chair next to his bed, a little slumped over from falling asleep. She had another blanket from the hall closet tucked around her, a pillow supporting her shoulders and neck, and seemed to be in her own pajamas. Her hair was wrapped up for down time. He had no idea how long she’d been there, nor did he understand why she was until he flexed his hand in hers.

He looked down at his hand with a frown, noticing that someone had inserted a port into the back of it. His eyes followed the tubing to the side and up to catch sight of an IV bag set to slow-drip hanging from an IV pole. He narrowed his eyes, slowly tracing them over the tubing in reverse until he reached his own hand again, which stood out like a splash of snow against the sunshine yellow of the blanket and almost sepia tone of Phoebe’s hand, which looked as if it were sculpted from dark, polished amber: smooth, warm-toned, rich. _Had she done this? _

His hand flexed again, more noticeably this time, then squeezed hers and intertwined their fingers. The small movement seemed to wake her. Her eyes opened, the haze of sleep retreated, and she seemed almost instantly alert, her other hand briefly tightening on a dagger laying across her lap as she assessed the room for threats with a wary, darting gaze. When she found none, her eyes focused in on their hands, where his thumb started tracing a lazy line along the underside of her wrist, then on his face. She smiled at him, and it lit up her whole face, her eyes shining. It also made something twist and turn and _burn_ in his chest. Rick ignored it in favor of giving her his attention.

“Whose idea was it to hook me up to an IV?”

Phoebe smirked, and damn, just _damn_. _How did she not know? How did none of them know?_

Instead of answering, she decided to tease him. “I take it that you slept well, then, if you feel well enough to be an ass.”

Rick scowled, but he knew that they both knew he didn’t put any heart into it. “Yeah, because you’re always such a ray of sunshine,” he sneered.

Phoebe snorted. “Go fuck yourself.” From Phoebe, it sounded familiar and fond. She stretched and sat forward, laying the dagger on his bookstand. She set her elbow on the bed next to him and propped her head up with her arm, hand under her chin. She wrinkled her nose playfully. “You were having a pretty rough time—actually, who am I kidding, you looked like death warmed over, so I thought I’d help alleviate your idiocy-induced illness.”

“Wow, honey, you say the sweetest things,” Rick drawled sarcastically.

Phoebe continued without responding to that remark. “I set you up with a combination electrolyte replacement, anti-nausea, and pain-relief solution.”

Rick thought with rather vicious glee about how all the ‘poor Phoebe-less bastards,’ as he called the Ricks without Phoebes in their lives, must be waking up in their own timelines—the ones who also partied, anyway. Must be a hell of a thing to not have her _and_ to have to crawl out of the dark, anguished pit that was coming down from a high and having a hangover at the same time. Well, and waking up at all.

“Thank fuck for that.” He groaned, gazing up at the ceiling for a moment. “What would I do without you?” What _would _he do without her, now that he’d known her.

“I don’t know, perish?” She got up with another stretch, her spine arching like a cat after a nap. The blanket fell off of her body into a messy lump on the floor, revealing a pair of forest green pajama shorts with a matching short-sleeved shirt. She leaned over him, concern clear on her face. He could usually catch a faint whiff of her scent, a swirl of skin and hair creams, oil, and her body-wash mixed with her biochemistry, but that close it washed over him. 

She smelled...different. There was still the soft scent of sweet almond oil and hair cream mixed with something inherently _her_, but something else was off that he couldn’t quite put his finger on yet. It was…familiar…but out still out of place. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she’d used _his_ body-wash instead of her own, and foregone her routine moisturizing. The scent of her skin, unmasked of its usual cover, and his soap mingling together sent a thrill through him. He could feel his heart start to beat faster at the thought, which wouldn’t have mattered if he didn’t feel her fingers wrapping around his wrist at the pulse-point to measure his bpm.

He tried to appear nonchalant, working to calm himself so he could continue to appear casual and avoid making his heartrate go even faster. After a few seconds or so of her fingertips pressing into the underside of his wrist this way and that, she frowned, removing her fingers from his skin and instead pressed them ever so gently into the pulse-point at his throat. “I couldn’t find it,” she explained. Rick forced himself to lie still, stifling another thrill of arousal as Phoebe counted just under her breath, all the while peering at him for any damage. He decided that her hand on his throat was everything.

“Your heartbeat feels strong, if a little fast,” she murmured after a minute or so had passed. Her hand mercifully—mercifully, because he needed to stay calm, damnit— left his throat and settled on his forehead. “You feel like you’re a normal temperature, but I can’t be sure without measuring it.” She sat carefully on the edge of his narrow bed, her body turned toward him. Totally deadpan, she added, “I’m sure you’re fine. Knowing how much abuse your body’s probably seen, I don’t think whatever you did will kill you anytime soon.” Her hand flexed against his forehead. “May I…?” 

He wasn’t sure what she wanted permission for, but he knew she wouldn’t try and kill him. “Knock yourself out.”

She slipped her fingers into his hair, slowly combing them through to the end. She then repeated the motion, massaging as she got to his scalp. Rick felt his eyes slide closed in contentment, found himself relaxing more and more into the bed. As jaded as he was, he was still touch-starved, and it was_ Phoebe_ touching him. If he were anyone else, he would be openly melting.

“So what did you take?”

Rick’s eyelids cracked open. “Doesn’t matter,” he grunted. He really didn’t want to talk about the _why_ or what he’d seen the night before in his dreams. He’d taken it with the hopes of lowering his inhibitions, _not _of bleeding old wounds.

Phoebe pursed her lips in worried irritation. “Right, that’s why you were such a mess, because it doesn’t matter.”

Rick shrugged, somewhat amused as he drawled, “Cute, the person who gifted me _Peyote _is worried about me taking a little Blue Fire.”

The hand holding his let go, going up to cover the upper part of her face, her fingers sliding over the edge of her scarf. “Damnit, Rick, do I look like I’m being fucking cute with you?” Phoebe muttered, exasperated, “I know it may come as a surprise, but I actually give a damn, you ass.”

Rick smirked. “I know.”

Phoebe’s hand dropped away to reveal a half-hearted glare. “I know you weren’t in actual danger, but would it kill you not to exhaust and dehydrate yourself? If I didn’t give you this miracle bag you’d be miserable all day.”

“Eh,” Rick shrugged. He was used to pain, after all. What was a little more?

Phoebe sighed, her other hand still in his hair. The warmth and pressure against his head felt comforting in and of itself. Softly, she said, “Pain isn’t the only way to exist, you know. There can be more to life than pain and covering up pain.” Rick felt exposed when she looked at him then, so he turned his head toward the wall. As much as he usually had an iron-clad control over schooling his features, he didn’t completely trust himself at the moment.

Rick fell back on a lesson he’d learned thoroughly through experience, through seeing the universe chew people up and spit them out in its often senseless cruelty. “Pain is just a fact of life, Pheebs. Nothing can change that.”

A single knuckle ghosted over his cheek comfortingly. “I know, but I’m saying that it isn’t all there is—or at least, that it doesn’t have to be.”

Rick chuckled humorlessly. “Right, try telling that to someone with some horrible, incurable disease and see how they feel about it.”

Her knuckle didn’t falter, gliding down over his jaw then up over the ridge above his eye. “You think their lives aren’t just as full and meaningful as yours or mine?”

“I think everything means nothing, in the end.”

“Oh?”

There was something in her voice. _Did she want to matter to him the way he craved mattering to her?_ No matter how much he didn’t want to show weakness, he couldn’t let her think she didn’t matter to him. Rick reluctantly turned his face to her again. Given access, her trailing knuckle traced slowly over his lips, which involuntarily parted slightly at the touch. _Damn. He’d have to work on that_. 

“Do you know what I really think, Rick?” She leaned into him, her lips just brushing the shell of his ear, her warmth suddenly so _very _close. He could reach out and run his hand down her side, if he really wanted to. If he turned his head just a few centimeters he’d probably be close enough to press his face into her breasts, and as it was the collar of her shirt was gaping a bit, allowing a view of cleavage. As those observations registered, Rick nearly stopped breathing. _What he wouldn’t give to be able to pull her on top of him just then, or to slip his hand underneath her shirt. _“I think you have to believe nothing matters because otherwise everything matters too much.”

_Gods. How much did she see and not let on at the time?_

“Or _maybe_, Phoebe, I think nothing matters because there are infinite timelines and infinite iterations of any given thing.”

Phoebe rose from her position, eyes sparkling with passion in the way that meant she was going to challenge whatever assertion he’d just made. This close Rick could see that her brown irises had dark hazel flecks in them. She uncurled her fingers, letting the tips drift over his cheek. “Infinite iterations means infinite possibilities. It means infinite trajectories, infinite _outcomes. _It means that nothing is a given, that new variables enter into the equation, that everything isn’t predictable down to the letter, and therefore that _every_ detail matters.”

As she finished speaking, her palm curved into his jawline. Rick changed course. “Pain is still a constant. Everyone lies, everyone screws up, everyone will disappoint you at some point, and pain is inevitable.” _And inescapable_.

A cheeky energy sparked in her. “Oh? You’ve expanded your list of constants now, have you?”

Rick scowled, though no heat or animosity lay behind it. “It was always on the list, Phoebe.”

Phoebe snorted. “Well excuse the fuck out of me, then.”

“There aren’t enough excuses in the history of excuses.” Instead of thinking of something cleverer he was still internally completely absorbed in her, staring at the unmarred expanse of her throat, at the curve of her lips, at the ridge of her collarbones. He wanted to measure the distance between them with his lips, to drop a few kisses between her eyes.

Her forehead wrinkled in a frown. “Rick?” Phoebe ventured. “You have that...look...again.”

Rick immediately became more guarded. “What look?”

“The same one from the party last night. Like you’re going to, I don’t know, eat me or something.”

Rick smirked. “That could be arranged.” He paused, then amended his statement with, “If you’d like, that is.”

Phoebe blinked, hand going to lightly pushed at his shoulder. “Wow, you really are shameless aren’t you?”

Smirk still in place, Rick carefully raised one hand—the one not connected to the IV—to tentatively caress her jaw. “You know it.”

Phoebe sighed dramatically, complete with an arm thrown over her forehead. “The ways I’ve suffered to discover this.”

Rick braced both hands at his sides and carefully sat up. “Right, _suffering_, that’s what they call experiencing things beyond your wildest dreams.” He was pleased to note that Phoebe didn’t immediately scoot away from him or get up to leave.

Instead, she dropped her arm from her pose and gave him an amused, fond look. “Humility has never been your thing, has it?”

Rick shrugged, unable to look away from her. Her lips looked as soft as they’d felt the night before—or _had_ it been the night before? _How long had he been down? How long had she been waiting? “_Never saw a use for it.”

Phoebe snickered. “I can tell.” She planted her hands onto the bed on either side of her, one of her hands just brushing his.

“It can be an important quality,” he drawled, seeing surprise bloom on her face. “Especially if you're wrong a lot,” he finished, eliciting an exasperated groan from her as the surprise dissipated. “Of course, when you're right, self-doubt doesn't help anybody, does it?"

“I guess not.” She bit her lip and looked into her lap as if she were trying not to laugh.

Rick took to opportunity to slowly edged his hand the rest of the way over and laid it over top of hers. “So...about last night.”

The laughter evaporated, the earlier banter and teasing forgotten as Phoebe’s face grew more serious, though not unhappy. “Yes?”

“Are we gonna talk about it? You—you said you didn’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. Well, here’s me not pretending.” It had taken everything not to make the first move the night before, or when he first suspected she might be interested in him in the same way. Rick wouldn’t mind them skipping the discussion and getting straight to the very naked resolution, but he wanted to get it right. He _had_ to get it right. He knew that as much as he spouted off about the Multiverse, and as much as he generally wouldn’t give a damn, he had no room for error. As far as anything having to do with Phoebe was concerned, he wouldn’t get infinite chances, and he sure as hell couldn't bring himself to alter her memories as an alternative.

Phoebes were different. The ones that bonded to their Ricks bonded to their Rick and _only _their Rick. They generally wouldn’t pick another if something happened to or with theirs, even if that something was death. Council Phoebe was a shining example, and for the most part they were all the same in that one regard without fail—determined not to treat Ricks as interchangeable, expendable, replaceable. As ruthless as they could be in defending their Rick or their Morty, that was also their weakness.

He had been reluctant to check and see if his dimension had a living Phoebe, worried the answer would be in the negative, or worse, that she had already died, or she lived, but would grow to hate him. He still clearly remembered Rick K-11’s downward spiral when he looked for _his_ version of Phoebe only to find out she’d been killed when she was twelve years old by a drunk driver, and S-29’s eyes after he met his and she wanted nothing to do with him. Not all Ricks were lucky, even if their timeline had a version of Phoebe in it.

Phoebe gave their overlapping hands a curious look, then abruptly got to her feet. “Pause,” she said, “hold that thought.” At first braced for second-thoughts and rejection, Rick quietly watched as she closed off the tubing, unhooked the over half-way empty bag, and disconnected the tubing from him. With a murmur about coming right back, she left the room with both, no doubt to dispose of them. A minute or so passed after her footsteps faded away, then the sound of running water reached his ears and she returned shortly afterward wearing gloves and carrying sterile gauze and medical tape. Before he knew it, she’d removed the IV catheter and he had clean gauze taped to the back of his hand over the place where the IV had been.

Slightly thrown off by her actions, Rick drawled, “Did you really have to do that _now_, Phoebe. I’m trying to—I’m trying to open up, here.”

Phoebe sat down next to him, this time much closer than when she had gotten up minutes before, with a smug look on her face. “Sorry, I just didn’t want it to get in the way and get yanked out when I did this.” She didn’t give Rick time to speculate on her actions, as she’d immediately followed up her words with more action. She had one open hand pointing upward as it lay flat on his back, with her left arm wound around his side. She had the other hand on his head, her fingers worked carefully back into his hair.

Rick forced himself to be still a few more moments as she touched their foreheads together, their noses grazing each other and her eyes searching his. He was sure he looked exactly as she said he had earlier and the night before. He certainly _felt_ as he had then, when his emotions had shown through despite his attempts to keep them in check. He usually felt similar during those times when their hands brushed, or that one memorable time when she’d embraced him after their near-death experience at the hands of the alternate Rick, but when she first kissed him it had become all consuming, a spark that rippled into an inferno. Rick didn’t do mushy, but still, mixed in amongst the yearning and the lust, the sentimental side of his nature got the best of him and he felt himself warm with affection for her, for Phoebe.

A few things happened in quick succession: a small, satisfied grin flickered on her lips; an answering warmth and fondness bloomed in her eyes; she bowed forward into him, her mouth connecting with his; and then she was kissing him again and he was slowly dying in the best possible way. He knew that without the now-tenuous grip on his emotions and on his every impulse to move that he would be trembling, would be moving too fast. He allowed himself to meet her half-way, to match each press of her lips, to cradle her cheek as if it were a newborn and to clutch her shoulder as if it were made of fine china. The kiss lasted an eternity, and it lasted less than half a second. It seemed to go on forever, an infinite moment, until Phoebe gently disengaged from it. Then it became blatantly obvious that it hadn’t lasted nearly long enough. She nuzzled his cheek with hers, keeping him close.

“Fuck,” Rick exhaled in a shaky breath before he could stop the word tumbling from his lips. He thought he quite possibly looked insane now, as wild with need and alive with feeling as he felt. A large part of him didn’t care. _Who else would know but Phoebe?_ It was their moment, untainted by the bluster and idiocy of the outside world, especially now that they’d frozen time.

Phoebe laughed softly, sounding breathy herself. “I realize that wasn’t exactly ‘talking about it’, but I really, _really _wanted to do that again.” She studied him quietly for a moment. “Should we do...I don’t know, pros and cons?”

Rick could tell she was only half-serious about starting the discussion that way, but reasoned that she needed to lighten the mood. He arched an eyebrow. “Cons? What possible cons could there be?”

“Yeah, you know, like...you’re an ass, you snore, you drink all the OJ…”

As much bravado as Rick displayed, Phoebe could have crushed him then and there depending on what she said. He felt something in him relax marginally. He snorted softly. “Yeah, maybe if I’m auditioning to be your roommate.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “They’re just examples. Well, the last two are. You clearly actually _are_ an ass, but I think I can overlook that since I’m kind of a dick myself given the right set of circumstances.”

Deadpan, Rick remarked, “And don’t forget selfish.”

Phoebe scoffed, immediately countering. “And you’re not?”

Rick continued, still deadpan. “Not nearly as much.”

Her reply dripped with sarcasm. “Right, and I’m Mary-Fucking-Poppins.” She tipped her head and caught his lips again, and he could only hope she missed his hitched breath slipping out, could only hope it would be swallowed in the kiss. She lightly bit his bottom lip, then let him go again. “Can we get back to the issue at hand? Pros and cons.” _If she was going to keep kissing him that way for misbehavior, maybe he should stall?_

Rick shrugged. “Eh. I still don’t see any. What reason could you possibly have for _not _living with me? In case you haven’t noticed, you already kind of do.”

Phoebe made an amused sound in her throat. “Fine, we’ll come back to it. What we should talk about is what this means and where we want it to go like responsible adults rather than jumping in with both feet and thinking about it later.”

Rick made a show of very deliberately catching her eye. “It means what you want it to mean. We’ll take it—we’ll take it wherever you want.” _Did he mean that?_

He realized he did, despite his lack of faith in the existence of love outside of a chemical cocktail occurring in the brain. Phoebe was the type of person who might want to go there, who might very well already be on her way there—to love, that is. No matter his personal thoughts on love, he wanted Phoebe, wanted to be with her for anything and everything. Sure, he wanted to be inside of her, but he also wanted to wake up with her in his arms, to sleep in and eat pancakes with her on a lazy morning, to have her next to him working in the garage on their next project or going on adventures, to hear her sleepy voice whisper his name with affection before she nodded off for the night. He wanted to smell the soft skin of her sepia neck, to hold her to his chest and not let go unless she asked him to, to run a hand through her hair, to go out with their friends for drinks hand in hand, to suck on her nipples, to slide between her thighs and taste her. He wanted her in every aspect of his life, to have her by his side, but he also _wanted _her, darkly, wholly.

Rick dipped his head at an angle, lightly brushing parted lips along her jawline and pleased to hear an almost inaudible gasp when he dipped just below it to plant a soft kiss on her throat. Her voice was...rough, he supposed he would call it, when she spoke. “What do you expect out of this, Rick? How do you see it ending?”

“I don’t,” he murmured, taking a chance and licking her neck in the spot he’d just kissed. “I don’t see it ending unless you want it to. I want—I just want…”

He knew he would start babbling if he elaborated, so he stopped, his mouth snapping shut. He was being _stupid_: emotional, vulnerable, reckless in an entirely different way than when he took the Blue Fire, drove his liver into overdrive with his drinking, barely crawled from situations by the skin of his teeth. He had ridiculed others for feeling too much, investing too much, and yet here he was. He was a _Rick, _goddamnit. He was _the_ Rick, for fuck’s sake….

Nothing anyone said or did mattered...until it did. It mattered when his alternate self bruised Phoebe’s knees, and it mattered when her fingers brushed his while they worked in the garage. It mattered when she held his hand at their own funeral; when they made scrambled eggs and toast in the kitchen; when she stood up to Jerry, her own brother, for her right to spend time with him; when one of the military Ricks from the Citadel twisted her arm and nearly broke it. It mattered that she’d washed her body with his soap, a mental image that nearly made him moan; that she’d cared for him throughout the night, going so far as to sit a vigil at his bedside; that she sat on his bed still looking at him with those eyes of hers, like two bottomless umber wells. Somehow everything that happened with her mattered even when nothing else did—that it would even if there _were_ infinite versions of her spread across the Multiverse.

_How could Phoebe not know how she made him feel? How any Phoebe made many a Rick feel? How could he feel this way, believing what he did about the universe, about life; how could he after what happened with Máte? He was the guy who always saw the big picture, so what was he doing now? _

He knew even the idea of love made people stupid. He’d watched it time and again as it seemed to erode all reserves of common sense and self-preservation in the most ruthless or intelligent of people. His own daughter and her affection for the bumbling idiot Jerry came to mind as a prime example. Surely she loved him at one point, or thought she had, to end up mired in their pathetic, failing marriage, unplanned pregnancy or no.

Attachment and affection were no better. They compromised you in their own ways, made you do idiotic things you never would have considered otherwise. And yet. _And yet. God, how he wanted her_—in his life, in his arms, in his bed. He was already in deep enough that if she went back on her earlier words and decided they were better off leaving things at a last kiss and never speaking of it again, it would punch a hole in his chest.

He’d deal, of course. He wouldn’t rage at her, he wouldn’t insist otherwise, he wouldn’t turn violent or make a nuisance of himself or curse her. He’d mercilessly hack apart his hurt feelings, swallow that bitter pill, and suffer in silence until his liver turned into vodka and his eyes didn’t revert from being bloodshot any longer. Things would go back to normal, mostly, except he would smother his desires, his _hopes_, if he were honest with himself, to avoid making her uncomfortable or driving her away. He would rather stifle his feelings and keep her close than push them and lose her completely. He couldn’t lose her. He’d already lost so much.

_God, he was done for—_no wonder some of those other Ricks who lost their Phoebe looked so dazed_, _so hollow, so _haunted_. Phoebes took up a lot of space in their lives. With their Phoebe gone, there would be such an aching _void_ with nothing to fill it. Not that they didn’t already have a void from _Máte_, from everything else that fueled their self-loathing.

“Oh….” Rick refocused on her to see satisfaction in her features. She chuckled nervously. “And here I was worrying you’d reject me or refuse to acknowledge your feelings.”

Maybe it was the Blue Fire still lingering in his system, or maybe it was his own traitorous feelings getting the better of him, but Rick found himself unable to hold his tongue. He stared at her in disbelief as words tumbled from his lips unbidden. “You’ve got to be joking. Do—do you—do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” Internally he cringed. He’d let her know more in that little slip than he meant to expose.

Phoebe’s eyes sparked with emotion. “No idea.” The hand in his hair slowly slid down his body: over the side of his head, over his jawline and neck, over his collarbone, coming to rest on his chest. Rick hesitantly let the hand on her shoulder travel down her arm, fingertips just grazing the side of her breast. He watched her eyes darken with desire, though she refrained from outwardly reacting. “But we can’t just—”

“Can’t we?” Looking for any sign or protest, he let his fingertips graze her again as he drew his hand back to her shoulder. He was rewarded with the slightest indication of arousal, its shape clear through the fabric of her shirt. _She wanted him as much as he wanted her. _If he let his mind run away with that thought, he’d be hard before he knew it. He carefully detached himself from it to avoid that—at least for the moment.

“We don’t—we don’t have a clear idea of where this is going yet.”

“I—I told you. Wherever you want it to, let’s just start going there.”

Phoebe worried her bottom lip with her front teeth in contemplation. “You said you’re going to follow my lead, that you’ll go along with what I want, but there has to be more to it than that.”

Rick’s mouth set in a firm line. “No, not really.”

Phoebe sighed, then lightly pushed against his chest where her hand lay. While there was no real force behind it, Rick, understanding, still went backward. Phoebe followed him down, lying beside him with her back to the edge of the bed and one arm propping up her head. There wasn’t much room, so their bodies brushed up against each other. Rick felt his heartbeat quicken again. _Was this it?_ She tenderly touched his face with one hand, her words coming out in a whisper. “I just think that before we do something we can’t take back that we should at least give ourselves a moment to think.”

“I thought we had?”

Phoebe touched her forehead to his again, burying her hand in his hair. He traced around her lips with his index finger. She turned her face into his hand and pressed a kiss into it. “I just want us to be able to look back and have no regrets about whatever this is.”

“No regrets, huh?” He closed his eyes. “I think I can manage that…” He angled his head so that he could find her lips. Phoebe had stolen so many from him; he wanted one of his own. Unable to see, he missed her mouth, but kissed across her face until he found it.

As his lips met hers one final time, the door burst open, banging into the wall. Morty and Summer’s arguing voices reached their ears.

“Summer, you didn’t see him pass out! We shouldn’t bother him!” Morty was saying. “Phoebe’ll tell us when he’s feeling better!”

“And I think we should check and make sure that the only person who knows how to restart time in our world isn’t in a coma!”

Rick’s eyes snapped open and he glared over at them at the same moment that they froze in the doorway.

Shock showed on both their faces.

Summer’s mouth hung open for a moment. “Oh. My. _GOD_. Aunt Phoebe? What—?”

Morty’s eyes couldn’t get wider. “Phoebe? Rick? What—what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like, genius?” Rick snapped.

“It looks like you were making out,” Summer deadpanned.

At his side, Phoebe spoke up. “Making out implies feeling each other up—and tongue, maybe some partial nudity. There was none.”

Morty flapped his hands. “But you were—y-y-you were kissing! You were kissing each other!”

“Yes,” Phoebe agreed patiently.

“Obviously,” Rick sneered, annoyed.

“On his bed,” Morty continued.

“Yeah, Morty, sometimes kissing happens in bedrooms. I’m sure some of it led to you being born, now get out,” Rick drawled.

Morty threw his hands into the air, waving them erratically, not unlike Rick. “Eww, Rick, that’s disgusting! Why would you say that? Now I can’t unsee it!”

Rick shrugged. “Don’t think about it.”

Summer crossed her arms. “Okay, but what does this, like, mean?”

“That’s what we’re trying to sort out,” Phoebe told her.

“Okay, well, next time can you hang a sock on the door or something? There’s not enough mental bleach to erase seeing my grandpa and my aunt making out.”

Morty gave his sister a horrified look. “Summer! How can you be so okay with this?”

Summer shrugged. “They’re adults and they’re not related to each other by blood. It’s weird, but what’s _not_ weird about this family? I mean, I’m sure the three of you have seen and done weirder on your adventures.” Summer paused, then winced. “That last part came out wrong.”

Morty’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish out of water. It would have been amusing if he weren’t inconveniencing them by interrupting their...whatever they were doing.

Rick waved his hand impatiently. “We all know what you meant, S-summer. Now get the hell out.”

Summer crosses her arms. “What about cleaning? I can’t blog or text or watch dumb YouTube videos with everything frozen, and I’m getting super bored.”

Phoebe sighed, her exhaled air rushing against his neck. She sat up and gave him a look of, _well, what can you do_. “She has a point, Rick. We can’t keep the world frozen indefinitely.”

She sighed again and ran a hand over her wrapped head. “I’ll start spawning more Mr. Meeseeks, and you two tell them what crap you still need done that you don’t want to do yourselves. They’ve already had a head-start getting the dishes, spills, and trash. Let’s see what else needs to be done.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet.

Rick sat up reluctantly. He shot a sour expression at Summer, who shrugged indifferently, and Morty, who wouldn’t look at him. “You two are real killjoys, you know that?”

Summer gave him a falsely sweet smile, her words just as sugary. “We wouldn’t be your family if we weren’t.”

Rick flipped them off as Phoebe retrieved the Meeseeks box and handed it to Summer. The teen accepted it without fuss and grabbed Morty’s arm. “Come on, Morty. Let’s give these two some space.” She dragged her protesting brother from the room, much to Phoebe’s apparent amusement, if her entertained expression was anything to go by.

Phoebe’s hand descended on his lower arm. “We should help them.”

Rick glowered as he got up to join her, muttering all the while about ‘pain in the ass grandkids’.

Phoebe nudged him playfully. “Hey, don’t get bent out of shape. We have all the time in the world.”

Rick groaned. “Really, time puns? I’m too sober for this shit.”

Phoebe grinned mischievously, barely able to keep a straight face over what she said next. “Guess it’s—guess it’s a bad time?” She waggled her eyebrows comically.

Rick rolled his eyes, a reluctant but fond smile forming on his lips. “Those puns are a crime. Y-you owe me for—for subjecting me to cruel and unusual punishment.”

Phoebe slung her arm around him. “You’re just a little upset that they killed the mood.” She shook her head in false commiseration. “It’s reality moments like these that time stands still.”

Rick huffed as he slipped out of the partial embrace, going across the room to grab a fresh sweater, fresh underwear, fresh trousers, and fresh socks. “I’ll be out after my shower. Cleaning without Meeseeks help has to be less tortuous than listening to you make another time joke.” It was clear to anyone that could hear him that he was teasing. Mostly.

Phoebe snickered to herself. “All right, I’ll just—” she paused dramatically after gathering up her things— “give you some alone time.” She grinned cheekily then stuck her tongue out at Rick, summoned a portal (presumably directly into her room), and stepped through, all the while ignoring him as he flipped her off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, in one piece of dialogue I may have borrowed a few lines from Dr. Gregory House, but it was totally a Rick thing to say.


	28. All Roads Lead to Phoebe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Phoebe make good on their promise not to pretend nothing happened. There are feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small CW for a bit of NSFW content.

The next couple of hours were filled with cleaning and repairs, with Phoebe metaphorically at the helm guiding a small army of Meeseeks. Meanwhile, Summer still insisted they do some things, like repainting the living room wall, on their own. On one hand, Rick thanked all fuck that the Meeseeks could lessen their workload. On the other hand, they still needed supervision—the damn things couldn’t self-start, wouldn’t jump to a task unless you gave it to them—so they all found themselves suggesting tasks that Phoebe would then give out as orders: fix the hole in the wall, mop the hallway, take out all the trash, clean the beer off the window, do Morty’s laundry. As a result, he hadn't had a moment alone with Phoebe since that “morning”, and he was itching to pick up where they left off before Morty and Summer barged into his room. 

At the moment, Phoebe stood back with arms crossed, wearing a self-satisfied expression as she stood with the four of them observing the team of Meeseeks repairing the demolished wall. She tossed her head and glanced pointedly at Morty, her long braid whipping up onto her shoulder. “I guess being predictable isn’t such a bad thing, huh, Morty?” 

The teen sheepishly ran his hand through his wavy short hair, letting it settle on the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess not, Phoebe.” 

Rick rolled his eyes and took his flask out, knocking it back for a long pull. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Phoebe’s forehead wrinkle minutely with concern, her fingers brushing against his. The message was clear, a mixture of Are you okay? and Take it easy. How was it that two people could read each other so clearly without a single word passing between them? When did they get to that point?

Summer looked at her. “Do we have to use them for all of the repairs?” 

Morty chimed in. “Why are you actually interested in doing chores for once, Summer?”

Summer scowled at him. “What, and you do? Since Grandpa moved in, robots usually do the cleaning so you don’t have to.”

Rick shrugged, lowering his flask. She wasn’t wrong. It was inconvenient to have to postpone an outing because Morty had to wipe down a mirror or clean the toilet. “Robots are—” belch “—they’re more efficient.”

Phoebe waved her hands to get their attention. “Hey, can we stay on track?” When three pairs of silvery eyes each met hers, she continued. “Summer, what made you ask? You know that the more we do ourselves, the more time it’ll take and the longer we’ll be outside of time.”

Summer crossed her arms defensively over her chest. “Yeah. That’s kind of my point. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, you know? We could get a break from my mom and dad, from everything.”

Rick whistled. “Wow, Summer, do I detect a hint of desperation there? You really—” belch “—you really find everything that insufferable?”

“Fuck you, Grandpa Rick,” she retorted with a scowl. “Not everyone can stay drunk all day and sulk in a garage with their girlfriend.”

“Hey!” Phoebe objected. “We don’t spend all day in the garage.” 

Rick noticed she didn’t object to being called his girlfriend, but then again, Morty and Summer had walked in on them kissing on his bed, so it would be futile to protest, something Phoebe must have realized. 

Summer smirked. “No, apparently you spend time in his room, too,” she said coolly. 

Rick snorted. “Ooh, she got you there, Pheebs.”

Phoebe’s eyes glinted, then he watched with a pang of nostalgia and the accompanying phantom of heartbreak as an expression he’d often made himself—one he’d only discovered when he noticed it on a different familiar face—bloomed across hers, not at all out of place there.

Oh shit. What the fuck. 

He frowned down at his flask. He’d buried the pain of losing his wife so deeply he thought it wouldn’t ever lance through his chest again like a knife between the ribs. Then again, maybe he should have expected it to given the dreams, visions, whatever-the-fuck, that he’d had the night before. 

Phoebe’s reply, smooth as silk and sweet as honey, brought him out of it. “Yeah, well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” Oooooh…

“Ouch. Does that mean you won’t be coming back?”

Phoebe turned to him, her expression transforming into a gentle—if teasing—smile. He felt a delicate touch on his arm. His eyes were drawn down to that touch, watching as her hand slid from his wrist to nearly his shoulder. “No te preocupes, querido, nunca te abandonaré.” Don’t worry honey, I’ll never abandon you.

Fuck. 

Summer groaned and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what you said, and I don’t want to know. Just hang a sock or a tie or whatever next time.” 

Morty covered his ears and ducked his head. “Summer, gross, stop making me see that kind of shit!”

Summer sniffed and rolled her eyes. “God, Morty, no one told you that you had to picture it, you dingleberry.” 

“I can’t help it! I’m a highly visual person, Summer,” Morty snapped, “When you say it I see it!”

Summer shrugged carelessly, not unlike Rick. “Sounds like a personal problem. Deal with it. I’m gonna go hit up the mall while everything’s frozen. I want to pick up some new clothes and makeup. Then Mandy Zimmerman can eat her bitch heart out when she realizes I look better than her.” She tossed her hair and made her way out of the room without looking to any of the four of them for approval. As she left, she grabbed Edana’s wrist. “Edana’s coming with me.” Not unlike how she’d manhandled Morty earlier, she dragged the poor Android from the room before anyone could protest. 

Morty’s response was nearly immediate. “If—if Summer can do that, then—then I can score some new video games the same way.” 

Rick immediately saw an advantage to this and pounced on the opportunity to be with Phoebe alone. “Y-y-you, you go do that, Morty. Phoebe and I, we’ll ta—we’ll take care of everything here, don’t you worry.” 

Morty narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Y-y-you, you’re just—j-just trying to get rid of me, aren’t you, Rick?” Morty threw his hands into the air. “I can tell you just want to be alone with Phoebe. I’m not you, but I’m not that dumb, Rick, I can take a hint.” He exhaled loudly, huffily leaving the room. 

As soon as the teen reached the hallway, Rick made a move to steal a kiss from Phoebe, who had so far been the one to initiate one in the past. To his surprise, she stopped him with a single finger held up to his lips. “This isn’t talking,” she said with an amused smile, “And we still need to do that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “do we?” He logically knew they needed to for her sake, that they couldn’t rush things, that he had to stop his self-sabotaging for things that mattered, for people that mattered—the only problem was that he had become accustomed to nothing mattering until she waltzed into their life and shook up everything. 

He could see the exact moment she bit back a laugh. “We should,” she reminded him with emphasis. “As much as I want to jump in with both feet, I also don’t want to act like this isn’t a big deal. You’re too important to me for that.”

She might just kill him. 

As much as Ricks sneered at attachment, Phoebes were their ultimate weakness. They knew what that “following your heart” crap got you, and yet...something about Phoebe drew them in, something irresistible that made it almost impossible to walk away from them if they were given an opportunity to get close to them. And though they’d never admit it, and though they insisted they didn’t believe in love...really, all Ricks craved to be paid attention to by others, to be wanted, to be needed, to be loved—by certain people anyway, even if not by anyone else. 

Rick ran his eyes over her face, thinking. She stared back at him. If they went back to his room now to ‘talk’, how much talking would actually get done? Phoebe seemed to have come to the same conclusion—that’s what her tone suggested, at any rate. “Maybe we should get out of the house for a few minutes, go for a short walk while we talk things over?”

Oh, yes, he’d like to take her for a ‘walk’, all right, straight to his room to—

Rick shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate on their conversation and not the images dancing before his mind’s eye—the sheen of bare flesh, the first beads of sweat, purple love bites…. 

Unbeknownst to Rick, despite his otherwise stoic expression, his eyes darkened with lust. He missed the answering flicker in Phoebe’s eyes when she caught sight of it. 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, we should—” belch “—we should go ahead and do that, then see where it takes us.”

Phoebe bounced a little on the balls of her feet, a sudden burst of energy overtaking her. “Great! I’ll just change and grab my things.” Right. Changing. She still wore her pajamas. She withdrew her portal gun—he still felt a small thrill seeing her use it—and soon disappeared into a familiar swirl of energy. 

She re-emerged a short time later wearing a long, pleated yellow skirt and peach-colored shirt with bell sleeves. The strap of a small purse circled her shoulders while a dagger hung off of the belt around her waist. And, of course, completing it all and making Rick hot all over and even more turned on, was her lab coat. Goddamn.

It wasn’t an item of clothing that people usually found arousing, but for Rick, already sensitive to anything sensory related, the day was stacked with alluring sensory cues—the smell of his soap on her skin, the tactile sensation of her holding his hand until he woke up, the sight of her in a lab coat using his invention. There was just something about seeing it on her, about seeing that portal gun in her hand and that dagger at her waist that made the blood in his veins burn with desire. Waking up to part of his scent mixed with hers had given him a heady sensation that had yet to fade, and this only added fuel to the fire. He was already attracted to her, had been physically since they met and now was emotionally as well, but somehow it made her all the more alluring, more intoxicating, more delicious. Now more than ever, after everything else, after everything they’d been through and seen together, and after feeling her soft lips on his and her hands in his hair, he wanted more. He wanted to expand his sensory knowledge of her further, to taste her, to feel her skin and her tongue and her teeth. He was hungry for anything she’d offer him. Anything. 

The intensity and clarity of his feelings surprised him, especially when, if he examined them, he knew how much he cared for her. By god was he hot for her, but it extended far beyond that. At any rate, he knew he needed to rein in his emotions more tightly than usual, to match her pace. He knew he needed to meet her where she was. If he moved too quickly, he could put her off of anything, and so didn’t want her to feel rushed or forced into a corner. If she wasn’t at ‘fuck him speechless’, so be it. If she wasn’t there in five months or five years, so be it. He could be impulsive in general, but not with this. Not with her. Phoebe could never be some split-second decision or a forgettable fuck that he’d be happy to ditch in the morning and never see again. He knew she wouldn’t see him that way either, and that she’d want to think things through and talk it out. He would talk for the next ten years if she wanted to be with him. His dick would just have to get over it because his stupid “heart” was taking over. 

Ugh, you’ve gotta be shitting me. I’m turning into some love-struck moron. 

No. That wasn’t true. He wasn’t being a moron, he was being reasonable. He knew that if he fucked this up, he’d have far more to lose than getting off: more than losing his chance with Phoebe, he’d lose his only human friend, one of the only people he actually genuinely liked instead of merely tolerated, his best fucking friend friend, his fucking spirit mate, if Bird Person was to be believed. He couldn’t be careless with her: he’d seen where that led a few other Ricks. He couldn’t be overrun with only his own feelings, his own attractions, his own desires. He couldn’t be selfish. Phoebes fell hard, loved deeply and passionately. It would never be solely physical attraction for her. Not that it was for him—at least not at the moment. 

At first he’d tried to bury his attachments, deny how deeply they ran, but that had failed. He wasn’t the type of person to use the word ‘love’. He still didn’t believe in it wholly and fully the way his best friend did, the way Phoebe did, and would, and he knew that. He was intelligent enough to realize that denial would be a futile pursuit. No Rick would ever admit how driven by emotions they actually were, how much they drove their actions. It was easier to embrace indifference when you felt so deeply. Too highly intelligent, too self-aware, too feeling to ever escape no matter how much they threw themselves into not caring. Phoebes felt just as much if not more, but they refused to numb themselves. They bore their wounds proudly, fought their battles freely, felt openly and unapologetically. 

Fuck. 

He was so not doing this right now. He was the Rickest Rick. Now was not the time to spiral into introspection and emotion. 

“Rick?” Phoebe’s voice drug him out of his tangled thoughts. She stood close to him now, a hand on his cheek and her eyes concerned. If she kept looking at him like that, either she’d destroy him or he’d explode. His fucking hands were shaking for fucks sake. Every time she touched him, every one of his nerves ignited. He once more felt the reoccurring urge to drop kisses down her throat, to run his hands down her sides. He wanted to see the soft, affectionate look in her eyes that came over her when her hands were threaded through his hair. 

The smartest being in the universe could apparently still fall prey to something as idiotic as feelings and attachment. 

This woman was his weakness and he knew it and yet he simply didn’t care. How could he, especially when she was also his strength? How could he when she looked at him like that, with such deep concern and tenderness? How could he when he would rather be weaker than live in any world in which she didn’t exist? 

Rick’s eyes met hers, dragging over the shape of her lips along the way. She moved forward and pressed her lips to his. Her other hand slipped into his and she tugged lightly at his arm. Wordlessly and without question, he allowed her to pull him along, out of the house and down the street. He was at the point where he’d follow her anywhere. 

XXX

Rick seemed content to let Phoebe decide their destination without offering any input of his own, apparently still wrapped up in his thoughts as he had been since she’d made her move the night before. Since then—when he’d been conscious, anyway—he’d been silently preoccupied and slightly withdrawn. Phoebe wondered what thoughts managed to be so distracting, but tried not to worry about it too much. They had things that they needed to discuss, so she instead tried focusing on the perpetual mid-morning sun shining down on them. 

At first Phoebe didn’t know quite where to go, but she soon found her feet taking them to the local park. She would often pass by the place on her morning runs. It was surreal to pass people on the street frozen mid-stride or as they got into and out of cars and buses, people who stood stiff as statues waiting for the crossing signal to change, for doors to open. Everywhere she looked she saw arrested movement, a pause in a stranger’s life that they’d never notice. It was a bit like being trapped in a painting. 

They arrived at the park without much conversation passing between them. Phoebe made a beeline for the play area and settled into a swing—all of which were miraculously unoccupied—without touching the weathered and rusted chain-links hanging to either side. Rick took the swing next to her, coming out of his head enough to give her a questioning look. She shrugged, sighing softly, lips tugged upward into a nostalgic smile. “I’ve always loved swings,” she told Rick fondly. “They always made me feel like I was flying, like I was powerful and free, like I could do anything. Never really grew out of that feeling.”

Rick arched an eyebrow, but rather than criticism aimed at holding onto that thread of nostalgia he said instead, slightly disbelievingly, “What, you—you think you’re not powerful and free now, Phoebe? Are you kid—are you kidding me? You—you’re intelligent and fearless and you have the entire universe at your disposal, Phoebe. The multiverse, time, space. You can go anywhere, be anyone, do anything. You have that—that power in your pocket right now, Phoebe, next to a throwing knife and an energy pistol.” 

“So do you, Rick.” She made an aborted motion. “Well, not the throwing knife part, but you know what I mean.”

The way he looked at her then made her chest tighten. The fondness for swings transitioned into her fondness for Rick, tinged with a bittersweet realization, a mental image of Council Phoebe swirling to the forefront of her mind. Without realizing she had even raised her hand, she grazed his cheek with her fingertips. “Besides,” she added, “none of that power means anything without you by my side to share it with, and that’s what I want to do: I want to share everything with you.”

Phoebe could spot a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as he tilted his cheek into her fingertips.  
“And by everything you mean...?”

“What do you think?”

She took one look at his face, which had changed to show something quite different from the vulnerability from seconds before, then groaned and facepalmed. “I meant sharing my life with you, asshole!” She rolled her eyes and sighed, then gave him an affectionate but long-suffering grin and a friendly nudge in the side. “This,” she gestured between them, “is some serious shit. We’re unbreakable. You’re my best friend and you always will be. But…” Phoebe took a deep, fortifying breath. “I think I might be…” She hesitated, then started again. “I think I might be falling for you, and that’s terrifying to me because I—I know how you feel about love, Rick. It’s like you’re allergic to the word. I don’t want to drive you away, but I can’t just let you think it’s only physical attraction.” She stopped abruptly and inhaled another huge gulp of air. 

Rick looked at her, obviously conflicted, his hands coming up to gesture as he spoke. “Y-y-you won’t drive me away, Phoebe. You can’t. Despite what I’ve always thought, I honestly couldn’t go back to life without you. Y-y-you think I haven’t struggled with this, Phoebe? My entire fucking life has shown me the reward people get for believing in love. My wife, my ex-girlfriend Unity, Beth, Morty, our friends. If we believe in love, we just—we just leave ourselves open to weakness and destruction like every other fool out there.” The scowl that had formed as he spoke softened when he looked at Phoebe, his voice dropping slightly. “But I—I’m The Rickest Rick and somehow I’m still a damn fool, being destroyed every time you touch me, every time you look at me. I’m on my knees, Phoebe. On my knees. Me, Rick-Fucking-Sanchez. And you’re a Phoebe and so unrelentingly giving and open. Before us Ricks knew any of you existed, we thought someone with so much unrestrained compassion and empathy, someone who felt so deeply, couldn’t possibly be mentally stable or intelligent, but then here you are, proving us all wrong. If anyone’s unbreakable, it’s you.”

Phoebe laughed, making Rick’s scowl slide back into place. She encircled his slender body with her arms. “I’m not laughing at you Rick. I’m laughing at the assumption that we’re unbreakable. Us Phoebes do break, all the time. We just choose to embrace it. We don’t let it stop us, and we don’t see it as a weakness.” She reached out and traced lightly along his cheek. “Have you ever heard of the concept of kintsugi?”

Rick raised an eyebrow, sounding skeptical. “That Japanese concept of something being more beautiful for having been broken? Yeah.”

“It’s more than that, Rick. It also means that broken objects are not something to hide in shame and self-loathing, but to display with pride—in other words, that your brokenness isn’t something to hide, to shove out of sight, to be ashamed of, and neither are emotions. It’s about more than repairing broken pottery so that all the fault lines glimmer with gold. It means being broken and surviving that is something to be acknowledged instead of forgotten.”

Rick’s eyes narrowed as if he knew where she was going with the thought, but he didn’t interrupt her, instead waiting until she paused to comment. “What kind of assbackwards idea is that? No one’s proud of their mistakes, Phoebe. No one wants to display every failure and fucked up thing that’s happened to them to be seen by the world.”

Phoebe traces around his eyes tenderly. “The mistake you Ricks make is in assuming that being broken is the worst thing imaginable, that acknowledging it instead of never even thinking of it means weakness. You’d never admit it to anyone else, but you all know you’re broken in some way, and you resent it, resent knowing it, and resent yourself. There isn’t a single loss that isn’t painful. There’s not a single grief that doesn’t feel all-consuming. After, though, when you pick up your pieces and refuse to stay fragmented and reform into something stronger than before, that’s what’s worth it. Loving even after you’ve been hurt doesn’t make you stupid or naive, it makes you brave.” Phoebe leaned her forehead against his. “Every scar and break and imperfection you have is proof that you were stronger than anything that’s tried to shatter you.”

This time when he closed in to kiss her, she let him, a pleased hum in her throat. “I don’t know that I believe in all of that,” he muttered gruffly. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “The only belief that’s served me has been belief in me, in Rick Sanchez, not in humanity, not in some god who doesn’t give a crap about anyone in the multiverse or exist anyway. But now I believe in you, too, Phoebe, and I believe in us. I don’t know if I can believe in love, but I believe in Rick and Phoebe. I believe that we’re unstoppable together, and I believe we should do whatever the fuck we feel like, and fuck the rest. I know what I want, and it isn’t to ignore the obvious thing that’s been building between us, or to pretend that I don’t know how you feel. I want you, Phoebe. I need you. Wherever you want to take this, I’ll—I’ll follow, Phoebe. Even if it means all this confusing emotional crap gets dumped on us along the way.” His hands slid onto her upper back as he brought her into another, longer kiss. 

“That’s what I needed to hear,” she whispered against his lips as she pulled back from it, her hand sliding into his lab coat. “I wanted to know where we stand.”

Rick pulled away slightly, looking down at her hand with hooded eyes as she aimed it at the ground near them and activated a portal. “We stand wherever the fuck we want to stand—together.”

Phoebe stood, tugging lightly on his hand and catching his eye. “Fall with me.” 

Wordlessly, Rick stood with her, eyes now on the portal. “Fall with you, huh? This isn’t some weird metaphor for falling in love that you’re creating, is it?”

Phoebe rolled her eyes affectionately. Tall fucker that he was, his mouth was much harder to reach when they were both standing, but she could fix that. She knelt down, pulling him into the portal with her when he copied her movement. They landed painlessly in a heap on his bed. 

“We could have just opened a portal on the wall and walked through,” he muttered with fake grumpiness as he sat up. 

Phoebe shrugged, echoing something he’d said to her often. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

It was Rick’s turn to roll his eyes. “Fun, Phoebe? Do you still know what that word means?”

A mischievous glimmer danced in her eyes. “Of course I do. Now, where were we?”

Rick crossed his arms. “Last I checked before you dumped us back onto my bed, we were talking about what we wanted to do about our mutual attraction to each other, which we could have done here.” Well, they could have tried, anyway, Rick amended mentally.

Phoebe shrugged carelessly as she swung her bag onto the floor and shimmied out of her lab coat, draping the latter across the table by his bed. She unclasped her belt and dropped it, dagger and all, next to her bag. “Given what happened this morning, I wanted to make sure we would actually be productive and that we’d be on the same page.” 

He smirked. “If by same page you mean ‘confirm that we’re both suffocating under sexual, emotional, and romantic tension—mmph!’”

As Phoebe stole another kiss from him, he felt her pick up his hand from where he let it fall. She pressed the palm of it flush to her side, then slowly guided it up her body. She paused just underneath her right breast, breaking the kiss to give him a little breathing room. Rick sucked in a breath. “Jesus, Phoebe.” 

“I didn’t think you’d care what he thought about this,” she teased with a shaking voice. She hesitated for an infinitesimal amount of time, then seemed to come to a decision. She drug his hand onto her breast and left it there. “Touch me,” she instructed, adding, “If you want to. I don’t know how quickly you’d like to move forward, but I think here would be a safe start.”

Rick swore softly under his breath in Dutch. “Are you shitting me? Of course I want to touch you. How would you—what do you want me to do?” He didn’t want to overstep, not here, not with this. Phoebe wasn’t shying away. She was watching him intently and telling him what she wanted matter-of-factly and it was destroying him. 

“Not too rough. Try to be gentle. They’re a bit tender.” She trailed her hand up his side. 

Rick’s hand flexed involuntarily into her skin. His throat felt suddenly dry. “Just my fingers?” 

Phoebe considered it, nodding. “For now.”

Rick dropped his hand to the hem of her shirt. It seemed to take ten years to work his hand underneath the fabric, then his skin was touching more of hers than he ever had, his fingers and palm gliding over her stomach without a barrier between the two. He reached the underside of her breast with almost trembling fingers, following the curve of smooth flesh currently trapped underneath another thin layer of fabric. Phoebe held still, though it sounded as if she was breathing harder, perhaps with excitement. Rick kept eye contact with her as he slipped his fingers into the cup of her bra and traced her areola, flicking her nipple gently after three slow circles. He could feel himself becoming aroused with every passing moment, but his concentration never wavered from her. 

He took her nipple between thumb and forefinger, the small protrusion already a little stiff, and tugged on it as softly as he could. A low, breathy gasp escaped from Phoebe. “Yes, like that.” Her head dropped down and she pressed her face into his neck as he repeated the motions twice, keeping in mind the tenderness she mentioned.

He had just adjusted his touch so that his palm cupped the swell of her breast while his fingers worked when she pulled the collars of his lab coat and shirt aside and bit him. It didn’t break the skin, and if he were honest, he'd been bitten much harder over the course of his life. But Phoebe biting him sent a fresh wave of arousal through him, all of it funneling to one place. “Damnit, Pheebs, don’t do that if we’re taking it one thing at a time like you wanted.” 

“What, this?” Phoebe taunted playfully, and then she bit him again, dragging a moan from his lips that he couldn’t have restrained no matter how hard he tried. 

“Son of a—” Rick shuddered, his hand squeezing harder than he intended. Phoebe whimpered in pain, making him remove his hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Let me—let—let me make it up to you.” 

He tugged her shirt upward until he could expose the half-covered breast that had been receiving his attention. 

“Rick, you don’t have to, it’s all right—” Her voice cut off when he pushed the lavender cup down the rest of the way and lowered his mouth to her nipple. His lips gathered around it as he pulled it into his mouth, using his tongue to lave over it twice. He kept his hold as steady and gentle as he had with his hands, the grip of his lips carefully measured. With his nose trailing along her skin, he felt goosebumps rising on her skin. Next to him, Phoebe squirmed, panting slightly. 

Rick wriggled his hand between them to lightly rub her other nipple through her clothes. He disconnected his mouth to mutter thoughtfully, “I think these need to go.”

Phoebe laughed shakily. “Yeah, then you’ll suggest our pants go, then the rest, and we’ll be lying here naked.”

Rick rolled his shoulders, unrepentant. “Only if you agreed. I wouldn’t force you to do it.” 

Phoebe eyed him critically, desire hot in her gaze. “Shirts off only for now.” 

Rick didn’t need further encouragement. As soon as they sat up he ripped off his lab coat and his own shirt like they’d been strangling him. He wrapped the two garments into a ball that he then flung across the room. Phoebe removed her shirt and bra much more calmly, pulling her shirt over her head like a normal person and tossing it onto the bean-bag chair. She unclipped the hooks holding her bra to her chest, then hung her bra on Rick’s lamp.

Seeing her bare-chested hit Rick like a ton of bricks. He shoved aside the impulse to act rashly and instead carefully drew her close to him, their chests inches from touching. Rick bent his head to continue his attentions, the fresh scent of her clean skin in his nostrils as he tended to her other nipple, this time starting off with a few closed-mouth kisses first. He dropped only a few before he graduated to sucking again. He could feel it the moment she set her palms flat against his sides and swept her hands upward. He reminded himself to be easy with her tender flesh as she tentatively flicked both of his nipples with her thumbs. He broke contact with hers to mumble a request of his own. “I’m gonna need you to do that harder, much harder. I’m gonna need you to pull on them.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Phoebe objected instantly. 

Rick stopped lavishing his attention on the small peak of flesh he’d been suckling to give her his best reassuring glance. “You won’t, Phee, you won’t. Just. I’ve done worse things to myself than this. Now are you gonna do it or not?”

Phoebe experimentally grasped his nipples tighter, tugging on them with more force than she’d previously applied when flicking them. “Harder,” Rick grunted as he released her nipple and blew on it. 

Phoebe shook slightly at the sensation, but fulfilled his request. She tugged even harder, twisting and pinching his nipples as she did so. Rick pulled back, seeing stars. If they kept going he was going to need either a very cold shower or about an hour of alone time, possibly both. 

When his vision cleared, he got an eye full of his work: by that point the woman in question was breathing raggedly, her chest heaving and her nipples glistening with a fresh coating of his saliva. Her areola and nipples had darkened. He buried his face into the valley between her breasts and inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down. Despite her desires for touching and kissing getting the better of her, it seemed like Phoebe wanted them to pace themselves, to take things in pieces rather than rushing. He’d give that time to her if she wanted it, no matter how much he wanted to be pressed against every inch of her skin available while buried in her as deeply as possible. 

“How did that make you feel?” He could feel the vibrations of Phoebe’s voice with every word as she stroked his head, fingers sinking into his thick hair. She seemed a little anxious. 

“I’d show you if we weren’t pacing ourselves,” Rick murmured. 

“I just wanted us to see if it felt right to us,” Phoebe admitted to him. “To do this.” He peeked at her, his own still pressed to her skin. “I wanted us to feel out...whatever this is, to act on it without taking it too far to see if this is what we really wanted.”

“And?” He turned his head to drag his teeth over one of her nipples without biting down. “What’s the skinny?”

Despite the involuntary shiver that traveled up her spine, she kept her composure as she said, “And, when I think of you, I realize that if I could only ever see one person again before I died, it would be you….And that I do want this, and I want it with you.”

Rick kissed his way up to her collarbone, then licked his way to her throat, gently thumbing both nipples at once. He whispered into the crook of her neck. “Do you trust me, Phoebe?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He pressed another kiss to her pulse point. “That might be a mistake.”

They both laughed, but then Rick cleared his throat. “Anyway, point is, you’re—you mean more to me than sex, Phoebe. I’ve had plenty of people be only that, but you—you do things to me Phoebe. You’re in my head, you’re under my skin—so save your breath and stop worrying that I don’t want you the same way that you want me.”

Phoebe slid her arms around him, burrowing against his chest as she embraced him. “Just don’t take my head off again if I ever want to tell you that I love you, you complete and utter ass of a man. I’ve felt something for you for longer than I’ve been willing to admit.”

Rick’s arms encircled her in an answering embrace. “You know how I feel about you,” he replied roughly. “You’re my person, Phoebe. I could rationalize leaving nearly every single person in this god-forsaken multiverse, but not you. Never you. You’re not an acceptable loss. You haven’t been one for a while.”

She did know. Those seemingly ruthless words from Rick in that moment illustrated to her just how deeply he really did care, but even if he’d denied it, she’d experienced his care enough to see through his bullshit. She hummed, allowing her ear to settle over his heart. Its steady thrum grounded her. “You’re my person too,” she whispered. Her left hand trailed down to his waist. 

Once more, Rick shuddered. “Don’t. Not unless—”

“Yes. I’m aware.” Her voice wavered into something sultrier than before, her desire bleeding through into her speech. “Take them off, Rick.”

He pulled away from her, looking down at her with the same burning intensity she’d seen during the night of the party. He stood with purpose and determination, his hands going to his belt. The clack and clatter of the belt buckle and the sharp hiss of his zipper seemed unusually defeating. Phoebe couldn’t draw her eyes away from his willowy body: from the lean muscles that she could finally observe with her eyes instead of just feeling under fabric, from the faint crisscrossing lines of scars mottling his skin, from his pale chest and long limbs. When he finally shucked his pants off and straightened, her eyes travelled upward from his ankles to his milky thighs, back up to his navel. 

“Yes?” Despite the slowly growing smirk on his face, Phoebe could read the insecurity lurking just beneath the bravado. She flashed what she hoped was a smile that came across as reassuring without seeming condescending. His face shifted with some sort of resolve. “I’m gonna do this the right way, Phoebe,” he whispered. “Still trust ole Rick Sanchez?” 

Phoebe gave him an oddly solemn look. “With my life.”

Rick swallowed thickly. “There’s something—there’s something I’d like to do. Stop me if you feel uncomfortable.” 

Only when Phoebe gave another affirmative did Rick rejoin her on the bed, crawling on next to her and softly caressing her neck. He ghosted his fingertips up and along her jawbone, used them to trace the outline of her lips and to dance them lightly across her cheek. By the time he got to outlining her eyes, Phoebe’s eyelids fluttered closed. After a few delicate strokes against them with the pads of his thumbs, he tenderly took her face between his hands and kissed the original path his fingertips took, from her neck to her eyelids, while allowing his thumbs to stroke her ears. Phoebe lay completely relaxed under the wash of caring caresses, which she found more intimate than how they originally started out, every muscle and nerve both electrified and mellowed by the sweet, feathery touches. Her eyelids opened a fraction to look at Rick as he kissed the side of her nose and nuzzled it with his own. 

His lips traveled to her neck again, then up to her ears. He continued gingerly running his hands over her face and neck as he drug the tip of his tongue along the shell of her left ear. A content sigh left her lip, suddenly turning into a moan when he sucked her earlobe into his mouth. He released it and pressed a kiss onto the skin just behind her ear, tracking his fingertips and lips down her neck, over her throat and shoulder. He rested one hand carefully against her throat without exerting any pressure while he nipped faintly at her neck. Phoebe twitched, but otherwise laid still, giving him a chance to continue. 

Rick nuzzled his way to her left breast, picking up where he left off from earlier but at a more sedate pace and an even daintier touch. This time when he enveloped her right nipple, it was stiffer, standing at attention and thrumming with more sensitivity. He trailed one hand along her side, while the other continued its path between her face and neck. He hunched over her, balancing all of his weight on his knees. Suddenly and without warning, when his lips descended on her left nipple and the hand on her side drifted onto her breast, Phoebe felt the sensation previously condensing in her lower abdomen seep outward and take control of her body with two small pulses. Her arms wrapped around Rick and she pressed her face into his chest, gasping slightly. She felt like she was floating weightlessly along with an idle current. As she let go of him and lay back lazily, she silenced the distant scientific voice in her mind attempting to neutrally relate the facts of what she’d just experienced, instead focusing on the sensations. There was no room for clinical objectivity where they were heading. They’d had their talk of logistics and decided this was what they wanted, to drown in each other’s oceans, to bask in the light of that sensual-emotional-spiritual place that someone could only ascend to with someone else. 

Through still half-closed eyes she could see the light in Rick’s eyes that meant he felt pleased about something. Pleased with himself, or pleased by her response? Those questions left her mind as his body shifted and he took his time to kiss down her stomach, his hands dancing down her sides. He paused when he got to the waistband of her skirt, making meaningful eye contact with her. “Do you want me to stop here or to keep going?” 

Phoebe reached for him and ran her hands through his wild hair, her trademark show of affection and quiet intimacy with him. “Keep going.”

He kissed along the top edge of her skirt, dropping his hands to her calves and gliding his fingers up her legs the way he had on her upper body. Every inch his fingers crept took the fabric of her skirt with them, revealing unblemished skin. Eventually most of her skirt lay around her waist, exposing silky brown thighs and soft lavender underwear. The caged anticipation Phoebe felt made her want to climb out of her skin, but she continued to hold perfectly still, watching and waiting patiently. Rick bent down and gently drew the flesh of her left inner thigh into his mouth while carefully massaging her right. Phoebe’s body bent so that she pressed more firmly into his bed. Her fingers pressed into his scalp, her lip between her teeth. 

Rick cut his eyes at her. Seeing her face made him bite his own lip. Watching her tore at his resolve to go as slowly as possible, and he found himself moving the hand on her thigh to rest directly between her legs, applying slight, indirect pressure with the heel of his palm. He leveraged it back and forth languidly as he continued to tease her inner thigh with his lips, creating a ghost of friction. He nipped up and down both thighs, scraping them with his teeth and sucking at the most sensitive spots. Phoebe gasped each time he did, louder and more explosively than she had before. Her eyelids wrenched themselves open fully and she gave him a single heated look. She bit down on her bottom lip, letting her chin drop onto her chest. Rick was rewarded two minutes later when her entire body clenched as if she’d been shocked, then suddenly relaxed. On her end, Phoebe found herself floating again, this time swirling away with a strong wind, then set down gently in that same lazy current, ready to drift away. Like before, Rick served as a touchstone, an anchor, an eye in the storm. 

Staring down at her, Rick’s lips curled with delight. Phoebe tenderly stroked his face, fuzzy with sensation. Her mind snapped out of her daze with sharp clarity when Rick hooked the fabric of Phoebe’s underwear with his fingers and moved it to the side. His mouth left her thigh, and he trailed a single finger along the newly exposed skin. Every muscle and nerve in Phoebe’s entire body jumped. Rick peered at her face, carefully assessing her body language. “How do you feel, Pheebs?” 

Was Rick capable of sounding earnest? She wasn’t sure if she would call it earnest, if it were anyone else, but for Rick, always wound so tightly as he clung to stoicism and indifference, it was earnest. Phoebe lovingly caressed his cheek. “Don’t stop, Rick.”

Rick immediately leaned forward, and the intensity of his gaze as he dropped his first tender, open-mouthed kisses onto pink lips swollen with arousal almost sent her floating aimlessly again. When his tongue slipped out between his lips and his fingers found their way inside of her, Phoebe’s breath left her suddenly in a low, wordless shout and her spine curved away from the soft sheet underneath her. As her head fell back onto the mattress, her fingers tightened their hold on his hair and her hips gained a life of their own. The longer Rick touched her, his tongue and fingers stroking lightly at a steady pace, the fuzzier her mind became, and soon it felt like all she was the nuance between the slow eddies and the dancing breeze over the surface of the water. It didn’t help that as soon as he started, Rick couldn’t stop moaning deep in his throat, his breathing harsh. The air from his exhalations and the vibrations from his moans both went straight to her clit. His free hand wrapped around one of her hips and tugged her even closer to him, until his cheeks were flush with her thighs and short, curly black hairs brushed along the bridge of his nose. 

Phoebe thrashed around, drifting into that lazy current twice. Rick could have kept doing what he was all day, would have. Doing this for her was enthralling. Tasting her, hearing her quiet, breathy moans that still escaped no matter how hard she tried to stay quiet, seeing the moment when that dazed, contented look came over eyes, what could be better than this, than using his usually sharp tongue to pluck musical notes from her, to steal her breath, make her come undone with only his mouth and his hands as she whispered his name? Of course he’d love it, he’d be honored, if she wanted all of him, but in some ways being the source of her pleasure was pleasure enough, was exhilarating, mesmerizing, hypnotic, intoxicating even. It was a greater high than he’d ever received from kalaxian crystals, Purple Passion, Blue Fire, Ecstasy, cocaine, or LSD. 

Rick paused, suddenly off-kilter as he stumbled from his spinning thoughts. Phoebe was tugging at his hair. He pulled away his touch: his lips, his tongue, his fingers, dreading that he’d gone too far. Phoebe dispelled that notion when she spoke, husky and breathless. “Rick, I need you.” 

Rick climbed her body to hover over her, battered between his desire to listen and his desire to keep going. He bent his head and measured how many kisses fit between her eyes. “Tell me.” 

Her arms and legs wrapped around him and pulled him flush to her body. Leaving a trail of kisses in their wake, her lips followed his jawline to his ear. “You said you wanted to show me. Do it.”

Rick paused to tug at her remaining clothing. Phoebe lifted herself up enough for him to slide the garments off of her and toss them away without seeing where they landed. As her ankles locked around his waist, Rick dropped his head onto her shoulder, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her skin again. Phoebe’s hand felt between them until she found what she was looking for, her hold gentle as she arched her spine and undulated her hips upward. Rick thought he might not be able to support his weight over her for one long, terrible moment as he slid into place. He couldn’t move at first, could only marvel at the feeling of their bodies joined together, at how they could interlock in a way that could bring tears to his eyes if he let it. His stillness ended when Phoebe bit hard into his shoulder, one of her hands once more entangled in his hair and the other lightly gripping his throat. Dutch and Spanish swears fell from his lips, then the dam broke and they were all motion, intermingled breath, and rushing blood. 

Their moans twined together as tightly as their bodies so that to Rick’s ears, in the explosion of sensation that followed he couldn’t tell when one began and one ended, couldn’t tell for a moment whose hand was on whose chest. Everything shifted, and suddenly she was the center of the universe, not just the honey staining his lips or the sweet nectar still lingering on his tongue, but a goddess who stepped from the realms of the heavens to lay with mortals, exquisite from the top of her halo of wild curls to the soles of her feet. Rick had never been a religious man. He’d always considered it beneath him, a fool’s errand run by naive people who needed comfort and a way of denying how insignificant their pathetic lives really were, but now? Now he felt that he’d found one between her legs, in the number of kisses between her eyes, in those dark brown depths that looked at him just so, in the breathless way she whispered his name and squeezed gently at his throat. He was the supplicant praising her name, wanting to worship in her temple, to pray inside of her holy walls until she took every breath from his body, and he’d absolutely let her. 

He ran a shaking, reverent hand up her sides, across her stomach, over her breasts, between her thighs. He simply couldn’t not touch her as they moved. He was spinning, endlessly spinning. There was a god, and she was a woman. Her name was Phoebe Johnson, her soft body currently molded to his, and he was quite possibly dying now, sacrificing himself to her in one of the most intimate, beautiful, desperate ways someone could. And he would gladly do it again, a hundred times, a thousand, spilling libations at the foot of her altar to feed her, because gods demanded your breath, your tears, your blood, your deepest pains and greatest joys, your heart and your imperfections. He wasn’t a religious man, but he would happily fall at the feet of this god, tasting her, touching her, being choked by her, whispering her name. 

Rick sensed himself spiraling. He watched hungrily as she came undone two final times, her hand tightening on his throat involuntarily with each jolt to her nervous system, her insides crushing him, her chest heaving, her legs shaking even as they pulled him closer, her lip back between her teeth. Her eyes closed momentarily, her breath rushing out of her in a satisfied whine. 

And like that, he was hers indefinitely. 

For one breathtaking moment, he could taste color and see sound and smell heat. It felt like his entire body would melt as he shattered, rutting frantically into her, chasing after stardust. He didn’t even realize at first that he’d spouted nonsense in Spanish, “Dos rojas lenguas de fuego,” the first line of some Rima by Bécquer that popped into his scrambled brain. It didn’t hit him that he said it until they rolled onto their sides, still connected and numb with ecstasy. They stayed that way—breathing each other in, listening to each other’s heartbeats, reveling in the feel and closeness of each other, kissing until their lips became swollen—until Morty, Summer, and Edana came home, not bothering—or not willing— to move from each other’s arms. 

Sometime later as his fingers mapped every inch of her spine, Rick muttered next to her ear, “What was that again about pacing ourselves?”

Phoebe hid her face against his shoulder, lightly slapping at his bicep. “Shut up, Rick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: If you listen to Explosion by Zolita and Empire by Shakira, you’ll see the frame of mind I was in when I first got the idea for this story (after also binge-watching Rick and Morty seasons 1-3 sequentially for the first time, mind). Well, that and the scene where he attempts to disintegrate his own skull with Do You Feel It by Chaos Chaos playing. That last song wrecked me. 
> 
> Let me know what y’all think about these last few updates. 
> 
> Update 5/11/20: Hey all. (TW for death and illness). Just a head’s up that my grandma is finally losing her body’s long fight with cancer. They don’t think she’ll last the week. I’ll still be thinking of this story, but I may not be able to update this week as planned. I’ll keep you posted.
> 
> Update: my grandma passed the day after I got back. I’m not okay, but I’m still trying to write! I’ve already started the next installment, I’m just struggling emotionally right now with my grief. Love y’all much


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